caused a helluva flash flood. Mrs. Trent was in a lawsuit against him. She and the other ranchers.”
Mickey almost choked on her lettuce. She stole a quick sip of water. “Oh,” she said, flustered. “That. Thank God it wasn’t worse than it was.”
“Which wasn’t worse? The flood? Or the lawsuit?” Shadows played on the planes of his face, but even in the muted light she thought she saw a glint of challenge in his eyes.
“Neither. The flood didn’t do any major damage, here at least.”
“Really? I heard it wiped out a housing development.”
He said it calmly, but his words hit a nerve, rousing her wariness.
“A would-be development,” she corrected. “There were only five houses. None was finished. The developer put up this stupid dam—”
“—and the dam didn’t hold,” he finished for her. “So the developer pulled out. His name was Fabian, wasn’t it?”
He was right, and two suspicions struck Mickey at once. He and Bridget must have had more than a wee chat. Bridget seemed taken with Adam. Had he charmed her into spilling out information the whole time Mickey was away?
But the more ominous one was the same fear that had haunted Caro when Fabian started buying up local land.
Mickey threw discretion to the wind. She said, “You seem to know a lot. Fabian wanted all the land he could get. Enoch Randolph had plenty of it. Did Fabian offer to buy it?”
Adam tilted his wineglass so the candlelight reflected in its red depths and studied it. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “He offered.”
Mickey held her breath. “Well?” she challenged.
Adam tipped the glass to another angle, watching the changing refraction. “Enoch wouldn’t sell. Some fancy lawyer came to the Bahamas to try to talk him into it. Enoch laughed in his face.”
Relief swept through her. “Caro always said Enoch was his own man.”
Adam’s gaze shifted to her eyes again. “He turned down a hell of a lot of money.”
“So did Carolyn. So did most of the ranchers. It takes character to hold out against greed.”
“Does it?” There was mockery in his voice. “With Enoch, all it took was cussedness.”
Mickey looked at him questioningly.
“He knew he was dying,” Adam said. “He said, ‘This sonuvva bitch says I’ll be rich. What good’s money gonna do me? Buy me a gold coffin? Screw it.’”
The humor was dark, but Mickey smiled dutifully. “Good for him. Some men might find it tempting, to be rich for even a little while.”
Adam shook his head. “He didn’t like anything about the scheme.”
“We didn’t either. We’ve got a way of life here. Fabian threatened it.”
“You’re in favor of preservation?” Adam raised an eyebrow as if doubtful. “Protecting nature?”
“Yes, and so is Carolyn,” she insisted. “She and the others worked hard for it. She’ll be grateful to know Enoch helped.”
“Grateful?” he echoed. “He didn’t do it to help. He did it because he felt like doing it.”
Bridget swept in, carrying plates of sauerbraten, dumplings and homemade applesauce. “Save room for dessert,” she said cheerfully to Adam. “I made my special German chocolate cake.”
He smiled at her, and Bridget beamed at him as indulgently as a fond aunt. Mickey shot Bridget a warning look that said You and I are going to have a serious talk. But Bridget didn’t notice.
Gamely, Mickey raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to Enoch, for helping to protect the Hill Country, whatever his reasons.”
“I’ll drink to Enoch,” he said, clicking his glass against hers. He did not mention the Hill Country.
They each sipped. He said, “You’re very…close to Carolyn and Vern.”
Good Lord, had Bridget talked about that, too? “Yes. I guess I am.”
“Especially Carolyn.”
Mickey felt unsettled by this turn in the conversation. “Well, it’s Carolyn I work for,” she said, trying to sound casual.
“Vern stays busy at the courthouse?”
“Very busy. He’s the only justice of the peace in the county.”
Adam gave a wry smile. He had a good smile, too good. It did odd, tickly things to the pit of her stomach. “I thought a justice of the peace was just a guy who could marry people.”
Mickey fought to ignore the tickle. “No. He handles civil and criminal cases and small-claims court. And works with juveniles. He’s got a lot of duties.”
“So Carolyn runs the ranch.”
“Yes.” Mickey pushed at the applesauce with her spoon. “But let’s talk about you. How did you come to know Enoch?”
“Let’s save that for later,” he said. “I’m staying in Carolyn’s house, enjoying her hospitality. I’d like to know more about her. She’s run this place a long time?”
Mickey’s guard went up. “Yes,” she said, not elaborating.
“How long?” he persisted.
“She inherited it from her mother. Almost twenty years ago.”
“She’s lived her whole life here?”
“Yes,” was all Mickey would say.
But Adam wasn’t put off by short answers. He pressed on. “Carolyn had a sister. She married a neighbor, J. T. McKinney. But she’s been dead for years, hasn’t she?”
“Yes.” Mickey didn’t know where these questions were leading, but they made her nervous.
“What happened to Carolyn’s father?”
Mickey’s body tensed. “He—deserted his family. The marriage was never very stable. One day he just disappeared. I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”
Adam took another drink of wine. “It’s not easy for a man to disappear completely. Does she even know if he’s alive?”
Mickey squared her shoulders combatively. “She got word five years ago that he’d died in Canada. Now let’s drop the subject. Please.”
“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “We’ll talk about you. How long have you worked here?”
“Nine years,” she said. “I sort of ‘interned’ here for two years while I finished high school. I started right
