her dark brown eyes and chiseled cheekbones... He’d felt like the love-struck boy he’d been before everything fell apart. After her brother died, he’d come close to begging her to believe in him. But then, Grey had hesitated when he said, I didn’t...kill him. He had his doubts about Jared’s death. About himself.
And today his luck wasn’t running very high. If he’d tried for more of their conversation in town, they might well have ended up in a nasty argument. Still wondering what she might say tomorrow, he drove home and down to the barn to find his new cowhand waiting for him, shifting his weight from one boot to the other in obvious impatience. Which came as no surprise.
“Glad I caught you. I was just headin’ into town myself.” Somewhere in his mid-twenties, Cody Jones had a shock of wheat-colored hair, close cut on the sides but longer on top. He still looked like a kid to Grey, who’d turned thirty this year, but Cody stood inches taller than Grey did, even at six feet. He had to look up into Cody’s merry dark eyes, which never set well with Grey, who was now the sole person of authority at Wilson Cattle. “Thought I’d get my pay first.”
“Sorry, you’ll have to wait.” After his morning appointment at the bank, he was sure about that. “We sold off those cattle last week, but the check hasn’t cleared.” He wouldn’t mention the loan.
“Man, I thought trying to make a living on the circuit was tough. Five seasons as a bronc rider before I quit to hire on here, but winnin’ prize money was way easier than this.”
“And how much did you win?”
Cody flashed a grin. “Not enough.”
“You know any riders who are earning good money?”
“Just the top guys, and they really rake it in. Private planes and all.”
“There you go. Most don’t ever reach that level. Being a top rodeo cowboy’s not that easy, either—it’s like winning the lottery.”
Grey had tried rodeo, too, for a couple of years after college, so he could empathize with Cody. Still, Grey viewed him almost as the younger brother he’d never had. He’d given him advice before, taught him quite a bit already and wanted to believe that Cody would, sooner or later, be of real value to Wilson Cattle. Which reminded him to ask, “You feed the horses this morning?”
Cody had “forgotten” twice last week. He had a tendency to focus on himself instead of his work. Grey toyed with the idea of docking his pay for the double oversight, then discarded it. He lived up to his obligations.
Too bad he couldn’t take that to the bank.
Before seeing Shadow, he’d made a quick stop at the local tack store to order a new saddle and buy some lesser supplies, but he’d come out empty-handed. His credit had been declined. Grey had been having a hard time paying the bills lately, which only compounded his growing sense of failure. A best man. Was he, really? If only he could find some way to prove to her, to everyone else—maybe most of all, to himself—that he was innocent in the death of Jared Moran. But what if he discovered just the opposite?
Cody’s grin had stuck to his face. “Guess I can wait to go into town. Maybe on Saturday night I’ll find a nice little buckle bunny to dance with. To be honest, that’s what I miss most about the rodeo circuit.”
“Good luck finding one in Barren.” Grey noticed that halfway down the barn aisle, Cody had left a wheelbarrow full of steaming manure. The pungent aroma threatened to spread through the entire barn. Grey pointed. “Right now you’d better stop daydreaming and clean up that mess.”
Cody’s expression fell. “Thought you wanted me to mend fence today near the boundary with Logan’s property. By the way, he’s got a hole there, too.”
Grey frowned. Two sections of fence breached at the same time? He wondered if that could be a coincidence.
“Can’t be in both places at once,” Cody added.
“First things first. The manure won’t take long. Then get out there before those cows wander off the ranch.”
Cody grumbled to himself but Grey had other things on his mind. He left Cody to the wheelbarrow and went on up to the house.
He wouldn’t tell his dad about the loan just yet. A few years ago, after a long time spent as a single father, Everett Wilson had remarried, turned the operation over to Grey and moved to Dallas with his bride, as he still called Grey’s stepmom, Liza. Grey was fully responsible here. He had to protect their mutual heritage or they’d end up with nothing. Yet those new holes in the fence nagged at him.
Maybe the loan he’d been denied, his cash flow issue and Shadow’s blame weren’t his only problems. He hoped tomorrow would be better.
* * *
AS THE SUN began to set, Shadow pulled into her driveway. The house she’d recently purchased in Barren was her pride and joy. For the first time in her life, she had something all her own. At least, in thirty years it would be, considering her new mortgage. The house was another, necessary part of her plans for the future. But Shadow was still angry with herself for chickening out on telling Grey what she’d decided to tell him. And just when she needed to be alone, to rehearse what to say tomorrow, her mother was waiting for her on her front steps.
Shadow opened the garage door with her remote control, rolled inside then shut the door behind her. She went in through the kitchen and down the short hall to the entryway.
“Mama. What are you doing out there?”
Her mother blinked. “I came to see you. Didn’t know I needed an excuse.”
“I didn’t say you did.” What was wrong now? Through the screen door Shadow could see that her mother, in her late forties, looked somewhat worn today. Her dark hair hung in dull hanks around her face. What was wrong now?
Considering what had happened right after Jared died, she shouldn’t feel bad for her remaining parent. Yet she still loved her mother, who’d lost her husband—Shadow’s father—a year ago, who still looked lost herself, and showed up now and then to see Shadow as if she’d forgotten their rift. Shadow always had a hard time saying no to anything her mother needed and rarely did.
“Come inside,” Shadow insisted.
“I’m fine right here,” her mother said. “Actually, I came to tell you my water heater—yes, the one you bought me—leaked all over the floor last night.” She added, “I don’t know if it can be fixed, and I don’t get my government check for another ten days.”
Shadow forced herself to gentle her tone. They’d had this discussion before, but to Shadow’s sorrow, nothing had changed. “Mama. How many times have I told you to sell that place?”
“It’s my home.”
Shadow suppressed a twinge of regret. Grey felt that way about his enormous ranch, which Shadow disliked as much as her family’s small farm, the modest house with its now-sagging roof, the cramped rooms where her parents had fought late into the night over every dime.
She shook her head. “Five acres of dirt, a bunch of chickens and a house that’s been falling down around your ears since I was in diapers.” And someone in that house, she thought, had always been in diapers.
“I
