opened his mouth to grill her about what she knew about the McBrides, only to remember just in time that he was supposed to be a writer, not a lawyer. He could ask as many questions as he wanted—he just couldn’t cross-examine her as if she was on the witness stand.
So with a casualness he was far from feeling, he frowned and said, “McBride…that name sounds familiar. Is her husband a rancher in the area?”
Phoebe laughed. “McBride is her maiden name. Her husband’s Nick Kincaid, the sheriff. Her family ranches, though. In fact, there’s been a McBride ranching in Liberty Hill for over a hundred years. You definitely need to talk to them for your book.”
Stunned, Taylor couldn’t believe she’d given him so much information so quickly. Were the McBrides she spoke of his father’s family? His mother had said his father was a cowboy. How was he related to Merry, the vet? And how did Phoebe Chandler know so much about the family?
Curious, he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and asked her just that. “How do you know the McBrides? Are you friends with them or what?”
She smiled. “I’ve known them all my life. My grandmother and Sara McBride are best friends.”
“And Sara McBride is…”
“Merry’s mother. She and Myrtle have known each other forever. They were in first grade together, went to college together, and were in each other’s weddings. I can’t think of any major event in my grandmother’s life that Sara wasn’t there for. They’re like sisters.”
“So what about Mr. McBride? What’s his name?”
“Gus.”
She said his father’s name so casually and didn’t have a clue what she’d given him, Taylor thought. He’d found the son of a bitch! And he hadn’t even been in Liberty Hill an hour. Never in a million years had he dreamed finding his father would be this easy. Now he just needed his address.
He couldn’t, however, come right out and demand it, not without raising Phoebe Chandler’s eyebrows. So he swore silently, clamped a lid on the anger that always boiled in him whenever he thought of Gus McBride, and reminded himself that he had a role to play. “If Sara’s your grandmother’s age, Gus must be getting up there in age, too. Is he still ranching? Or don’t ranchers retire? What’s his story?”
Surprised, she blinked. “Gus? Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t I tell you? He died years ago.”
Chapter 3
Stunned, Taylor stood as if turned to stone. Gus was dead? He couldn’t be, not now that he was so close to finding the jackass. God couldn’t be so cruel.
But even as he tried to convince himself that Phoebe had to be mistaken, he only had to look at her face to know that there was no question she was telling the truth. She knew the McBrides. She had no reason to lie.
And that’s when it hit him. There would be no revenge; Gus wouldn’t have to account for his misdeeds. The bastard had used his mother, then walked away from her, leaving her pregnant and alone, with nothing but years of hardship and poverty ahead of her. And what punishment had he received for that? A life of wealth and privilege on one of the largest ranches in the area, a wife and children who’d never known what a skunk he was, happiness.
Bitterness coiled like a snake in Taylor’s stomach. It just wasn’t fair, dammit! He didn’t care for himself so much, but for his mother. She’d come from a well-to-do family who’d lived by high standards. When she’d gotten pregnant without the benefit of a wedding ring on her finger, they’d shunned her, thrown her out, shut the door in her face. She’d never seen her parents again, never had any contact with her family at all. All because of Gus McBride.
“What do you mean…he died years ago?” he asked harshly. “When? Five years ago? Ten? He must have been a young man!”
“Oh, he was,” Phoebe assured him. “If I remember correctly, it seems like Joe had just graduated from high school, so Gus was probably in his mid forties—I was just a kid at the time, so I don’t really remember the particulars, except that he had a heart attack. It was a shock to everyone. He just dropped dead out on the ranch one day.
“The whole family was devastated, especially poor Sara,” she continued. “She was devoted to Gus—from what I remember, they had a wonderful relationship. No one thought she would ever marry again, but I guess time really does heal all wounds. She and Dr. Michaels had been friends for years when they suddenly realized they were in love. They’re in Mexico right now on their honeymoon.” Smiling fondly, she said, “They had a wonderful wedding. The whole town turned out for it.”
Taylor almost told her he couldn’t have cared less about Sara McBride or her wedding. She was the woman his father had left his mother for, and for no other reason than that, he wanted nothing to do with her. Phoebe Chandler would no doubt be horrified by that, but dammit, the truth of the matter was, his mother’s life would have been a hell of a lot happier if it hadn’t been for Sara. Considering that, who could blame him for disliking her, sight unseen?
He thought, however, that he was hiding his hostility well. He wasn’t. Something of what he was feeling must have shown in his expression because Phoebe’s smile suddenly faded, and her eyes searched his. “What is it?” she asked, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
Wrong? he wanted to growl. What wasn’t wrong? When he’d taken a leave of absence from the firm to track down his old man, everything had seemed so simple. Unfortunately, the joke was on him. Gus was dead, and that was that.
Angry, bitter, his plans all shot to hell, he had to get away, had to think. “Nothing,” he lied. “I just realized that I left my notes at home, and I need them for the book.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there someone you can call to send them to you?”
“No,” he replied shortly. “I’ll just have to redo the research. Is there a library around here? I can probably get what I need from the local history books.”
There was no research, of course, no work he had to do except figure out where he went from here. Phoebe, however, accepted his story without so much as a blink. “It’s down the street on the right,” she said. “Across from the post office. You can’t miss it. It’s in the only redbrick building on Main Street.”
Gruffly thanking her for her help, he turned to leave, but he’d only taken two steps when she cried out, “Wait! What about breakfast? I can have it ready in ten minutes.”
“Save it,” he growled. “I’m not hungry.”
He was gone before she could stop him, leaving her staring after him with her mouth hanging open. That was it? He wasn’t hungry? After she’d gotten up before the crack of dawn to cook breakfast for him? He couldn’t be serious!
But the front door slammed behind him, and just that quickly, she was alone. Glancing at the apple strudel, Virginia ham and croissants she’d already made for breakfast, Phoebe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Why, out of all the people she could have had for her first guest, had Taylor Bishop landed on her doorstep? Did the man know there was a reason the inn was classified a bed and breakfast? Breakfast was included with the cost of the room! What was she going to do with all this food?
It was a beautiful summer morning, cool and clear, and under other circumstances,
