Secrets In The Shadows Read online

  Sighing, Rusty shifted his feet on the desk and rearranged the splinter of wood hanging from his lips. “Well, now. Let me see. To begin with, you askin’ all them questions about Colt got me thinkin'. Secondly, I've heard you've asked the same kind of questions of a few other folks here in town, mainly older codgers like myself. Thirdly, you and that sweet tooth, and lastly"—Rusty grinned—"You're the spittin’ image of Colt around the same age.

  "You see, Sheriff, me and Colt were bounty hunters together. We caught our fair share of varmints, let me tell ya. Course, this was ‘afore he met and married your grandma. She didn't much like his line of work, but Colt didn't quit right off. No, he didn't quit until we went after that woman killer, Earl Baker.” Rusty's eyes slanted sideways toward Adam. He lifted his bushy eyebrows in question. “You heard this story before, son?"

  Intensely interested, Adam nodded. “Yep, I have. But I wouldn't mind hearin’ it again, from a different point of view.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his feet, his gaze steady on Rusty. To his knowledge, his grandfather had never mentioned having a partner. Adam wondered why. The two had obviously been close friends.

  "Well, we went after Earl Baker, not only for the reward money—which was five thousand dollars—but for the principal of it all. That mangy dog had killed four women, tortured them ‘afore he killed ‘em, too. Colt knew one of ‘em, so I can't say it wasn't personal.” Rusty paused significantly, his voice low. “You might as well know the truth, son. Colt didn't plan on taking Baker in alive."

  "You knew this?"

  "Yep. I knew it. You gotta understand, I saw what Baker did to that girl, too. Life was even harder back then, and a man just about had to take the law into his own hands ‘afore justice was done. Earl had friends, and Colt—we—didn't want to take the chance of him gettin’ loose again. Anyway, we chased him plumb to Mexico and then lost him again. We got a tip from someone there that he was holed up in a shack a couple of miles from the border.” There was a long, heavy pause as Rusty remembered. “We found it and Colt busted in shooting."

  "And killed the wrong man,” Adam concluded. He had always had mixed feelings about the story, but hearing it from Rusty, he could very well understand how it had happened.

  "He was pretty torn up about it. Didn't help none that the man he thought was Baker weren't nuthin’ but a young boy, at the most sixteen. After that, Colt quit bounty huntin'."

  "He didn't finish the job? Go after Baker?"

  "No,” Rusty stated gruffly. “I did."

  There was no need to ask if he had succeeded. The satisfied look on Rusty's face told the story. Adam felt the same satisfaction knowing Baker had paid in the end. It also explained the close bond between Rusty Palmer and Colt Murddock. Adam wondered if Lacy knew about her grandfather's past, and how she felt about it.

  "Before she died, my mother said Colt had done some things in his life he regretted, but he'd more than made up for them by making this town a place where folks could sleep without fear of gettin’ murdered in their beds."

  "She was right. He spent his whole life trying to make up for that mistake,” Rusty agreed. “Sorry to hear about your ma. I heard she was a mighty fine woman. Colt talked about her a lot, and about that fine grandson of his—which is you, right?"

  "Yes."

  Rusty spit the toothpick out as if it had suddenly become something nasty. “But he didn't much care for that stepfather of yours. Said the only reason he didn't run him off his ranch was because he knew your ma loved him."

  "She didn't,” Adam said harshly, his expression pained. “She married him so I would have a father."

  "I take it he wasn't much of a pa?” Rusty guessed.

  Adam thought of the beatings, of the ridicule he'd suffered over the years. He'd stayed for his mother's sake, but as soon as she was gone, he'd left without looking back. It had taken all of his willpower not to put a bullet through Rudy Wagner's black heart. The bastard had not only abused him, but Adam suspected he had abused his mother as well. “He wasn't much of a husband, either."

  "If it's none of my business, say so, but why didn't she leave? Colt would have been more than happy to have y'all. As I recollect, he only bought that ranch because your pa was so dead set on raising cattle. Now, there's a man he liked. Shame he died so young. Stampede, wasn't it?"

  "Yeah. A bull gored his horse and he went down. He was trampled to death before anyone could get to him. Happened when I was about Ben's age.” It appeared Rusty knew a lot about his life and the thought gave him a warm feeling, knowing it meant his grandfather had talked about him and his mother often.

  Absently, he pushed against the shelves with his boot. “As for Ma leaving, I know why she didn't. Because of my brothers. She had two sons by Wagnor, and after that, I reckon she felt she had to stay."

  "Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about them. Colt never got to meet them, did he?” When Adam shook his head, Rusty continued, unable to hide his curiosity about the grandson of a man who had been like a brother to him. “But that still don't explain why you're here, and not running that ranch. You're a fur piece from Wyoming."

  Adam waited to feel the familiar bitterness, and was surprised when he felt nothing more than mild disgust over the way things had turned out. “The ranch belongs to my stepfather, now that my mother's dead. The ranch became hers after my grandfather died, then her husband's when she died.” He shrugged. “That's the way it goes."

  Rusty sat up in the chair, his mouth working in anger. “I told that son-of-a-bitch to make a will. I told him a thousand times, when he'd start bitchin’ about that no-account son-in-law of his."

  Adam didn't take offense at Rusty's colorful description of Colt Murddock. He smiled, but his eyes were hard. “That ranch has been Wagnor's so long, I'd never get the stink of him out of it anyway."

  Unappeased, Rusty sputtered, “But that was your land, Adam. Colt intended for you to have it, I heard him say so many times.” Rusty was taking the news hard. “In fact, I told you the other night he was talkin’ about going back there before he died. Said he missed his daughter, and wanted to see his grandson. I'm tellin’ you, Sheriff, Colt Murddock didn't kill himself."

  "I know. That's why I'm here,” Adam said quietly. “To find out who did. I promised Ma I would, and I'd appreciate your help, and your silence about the reason I'm here.” He waited tensely for Rusty's answer.

  Rusty didn't disappoint him. He slapped his hand on his knee and grinned, his earlier seriousness vanishing. “It's about damned time somebody found out what happened. You're damn right I'll help."

  "Good.” Adam kicked the shelf hard. Frustration roughened his voice. “Because it looks like I won't get any help from anyone else.” He locked eyes with Rusty, demanding the truth. “Why is it that every time I mention Sheriff Murddock's name, people clamp their lips shut?"

  Rusty hedged. “Folks don't want to remember."

  Adam snorted. “Tell me something I haven't already figured out. What I want to know is why. My grandfather practically built this town."

  With a heavy sigh, Rusty said, “They're ashamed, Adam. I hate to say it as much as you probably hate to hear it, but that's the truth of it. Colt was their hero, the man they looked up to. In their eyes, he took the coward's way out when he put that rope around his neck."

  "But he didn't—"

  Rusty held up his hand. “I know, I know. But you've got to remember, you and me are about the only ones who believe that. The rest of the folks believe what they saw. Sheriff Murddock didn't have no enemies in this town, and there was the note."

  Adam's head came up with a startled jerk. “What note?"

  "The note he left on his desk. Stated how sorry he was about killing that boy, and how he couldn't live with the guilt any longer."

  "You believe that?"

  It was Rusty's turn to snort. “Hell, no! Colt felt bad about it, real bad, but not enough to kill himself. It was a mistake anyone could have made, and it was part of the past. That's
where Colt left it."

  Adam strode to the door to see if Ben was in sight, saw he wasn't, and took the seat opposite Rusty. His mind churned with questions burning to be answered, but he knew Rusty couldn't answer them all. “Did you investigate?"

  "Much as I could. Didn't have any luck. Whoever did it must have put a lot of plannin’ into it. Couldn't find a clue nowhere."

  "Any strangers in town the day he was found?"

  Rusty thought hard. Fifteen years was a long time ago. Finally, he nodded. “There was. Seems someone was drivin’ cattle through that day on the way to St. Louis. Bunch of rowdy cow hands roamin’ the streets. I questioned a few, but they didn't even know who Sheriff Murddock was. Then there was a fire and ‘afore I got the chance to ask any more questions, the drive moved on."

  "A fire?"

  "Yep. Someone got careless with a smoke. Probably a drunk cowpoke, is my guess. We lost a few buildings ‘afore we could get it put out."

  Adam could understand how distracting a fire in town could be, with most of the business buildings connected the way they were. He shook his head, unable to find a connection to the fire and the death of his grandfather, so he dismissed it from his mind.

  "Who found my grandfather?"

  Rusty hesitated, and Adam saw a flash of worry pass over his features before they were interrupted by Ben's return from the general store.

  Ben's dejected expression and the way he shuffled his boots along the floor told them the errand had not gone smoothly. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out the small sack of nails along with the leftover pennies and handed them to Adam.

  Adam exchanged a puzzled glance with Rusty, who shrugged, then turned to Ben, noting his flushed face and shiny eyes. “What's the matter, Ben? And where's your candy ... and mine? Did you forget I told you to spend the rest?"

  Ben's face turned even redder. “Nah, I didn't forget.” He fell silent, obviously reluctant to continue.

  "Well?” Rusty prompted with a frown.

  "Miz Ida, she didn't believe me when I told her you said I could buy candy with the rest.” He pointed the toe of his boot at the floor and drew a line with it. “She ... she followed me ‘round the store, too, while I got the nails, an’ checked my pockets before I left.” Ben blinked furiously at the unmanly tears burning his eyes.

  There was silence after his words as both men thought carefully about how to handle the situation. Adam imagined Lacy's reaction. She'd stomp down to the general store and raise holy hell, probably embarrassing Ben further. Innocently, of course. He met Rusty's eyes again, saw the glint of amusement there, and realized Rusty was thinking the same thing.

  Rusty cleared his throat, gaining Ben's attention. “You know, Ben, when people lie a lot, others tend not to believe ‘em anymore. Stealin's the same thing. Miz Ida wasn't being mean, she just doesn't trust you. You know why, don't you?"

  Ben whispered miserably, “Yes, sir. I stole from her before, and she caught me. She thought I was gonna do it again."

  Adam silently applauded Rusty's wisdom, resisting the urge to pat Ben on the back. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and he knew this was one of them. “Maybe if you went back and apologized to Miz Ida, and offered to work for what you took before, she'd trust you again. You know, like you did for me."

  "You reckon?"

  Adam smiled, a little discomfited by the hero worship he saw in Ben's eyes. “I reckon she might. You've just got to earn her trust. Right, Rusty?"

  Rusty nodded his approval. “He's right, Ben. Folks'll come around when they see you've changed."

  "I have changed,” Ben said so dramatically Adam had to clamp his lips together to keep from smiling. He heard a gasping sound from Rusty's direction before the old man was able to smother it.

  "Now, let's get back to those shelves. I want to finish them before dark so I can take that pile of dirty clothes to the laundress. If I don't, I'll be walking around this town naked."

  Ben giggled at the image Adam's teasing words evoked, his embarrassment forgotten. “Nah, you won't have to do that. Lacy's pretty quick with the washing, since Rusty built that wash room out back. It's got a pump where she can fill up that big tub in no time a'tall.” He frowned suddenly, unaware of Adam's dismay. “Course, she did the wash today, so I don't know if she can get to it ... Damn! I was supposed to churn the butter today!"

  "Watch your tongue, boy, or Lacy'll be washing it for you with lye soap,” Rusty growled. He cocked his head at Adam, trying his best to contain his laughter over Adam's expression. “What's a matter, Adam? Didn't you know my Lacy did the washin’ here in town?"

  Adam scowled at the older man, who was so obviously enjoying himself. “No. I did not. Is there anything she doesn't do?"

  With a toothy grin, Rusty shrugged. “She likes her independence."

  "Well, I hope she's better at launderin’ than she is at cookin',” Adam grumbled, much to Rusty and Ben's mystification.

  Chapter Six

  "Mighty fine meal, Lacy,” Rusty said around a mouthful of stew. He scooped another portion up with a biscuit and popped it into his mouth, winking at Ben, who copied his movements with a little less grace.

  Lacy tried to look stern. “Grandpa, use your spoon. Ben needs to learn table manners."

  Rusty grumbled, but picked up his spoon. “What's he need table manners for? Maybe he'll marry some gal who doesn't harp all the time ‘bout things that ain't important.” He shot her a meaningful look.

  "Or maybe he'll marry a woman who appreciates a gentleman,” she quipped, fighting to keep from smiling. From the corner of her eye, she saw Takola's lips twitch.

  Grinning impishly, Ben tapped his spoon against the side of his bowl to gain their attention. “Whoever it is, I just hope she can cook like you, Lacy."

  Blushing, Lacy said, “Why, thank you, Ben. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.” It was her turn to shoot Rusty a meaningful glance. He feigned an injured look, which made her laugh.

  "I don't know how come Sheriff Logan says you can't cook,” Ben added innocently, reaching for another biscuit.

  The laughter stuck in Lacy's throat. She put down her spoon and patted her mouth with the napkin. When she tried to speak, it came out in a hoarse whisper. “Did.... “Taking a quick drink of her water, she finally found her voice. “Did you say Sheriff Logan said I can't cook?” She wanted to get it right. Perfectly right. Maybe Ben had meant something else.

  Rusty kicked Ben under the table and Ben let out a betraying yelp. “Hey, what'd you do that for?” he demanded, rubbing his shin. “I was just tellin’ Lacy—ouch!"

  "Stop kicking Ben, Grandpa. I've already heard what he said, so it doesn't matter if he repeats it.” The quiet dignity in her voice sobered the moment. “Adam Logan's entitled to his opinion."

  "Ah, hell, Lacy—"

  "Grandpa!"

  "I mean, tarnation, Lacy, Adam didn't mean it."

  "Then why would he say such a thing?” No wonder Adam hadn't returned the plate, or mentioned anything to Ellen about the blackberry pie. She blinked at the sudden moisture in her eyes, deciding she must be more tired than she realized. Certainly she wouldn't cry over a silly thing like the sheriff not liking her cooking. As long as she pleased her family, that was all that mattered.

  When Ben saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, he nearly burst into tears himself. “Tarnation, Lacy,” he cried, unconsciously echoing her grandfather's slang. “I sure didn't mean to make you cry. Like Grandpa says, the sheriff probably didn't mean it. He was just mad because he found out that you did the lau—” This time he didn't jump or yell when Rusty kicked him. He snapped his mouth closed and continued to look miserable.

  Lacy looked from Takola's angry, glittering black eyes to Ben's guilty face and felt ashamed of herself for getting worked up over something so—so—unimportant. She didn't give a hoot if Adam never ate another morsel of food she prepared. And she certainly couldn't care less if he'd rather eat Carrianna's peach cobbler, or
Susan's special spice cake.

  "I'm not crying, Ben. I—I just got a little choked on the stew.” Ignoring her grandpa's skeptical look, she lowered her eyes to the bowl and forced herself to continue eating. She wanted nothing more than to race up to her room and fling herself onto the bed for a good cry.

  After a long silence, Rusty ventured, “Me and the young ‘uns are goin’ fishing after dinner. You want to go?"

  Lacy shook her head, pushing a potato around in the bowl with her spoon. Grandpa knew she didn't like to fish, but it was nice of him to ask. She swallowed hard. He probably felt sorry for her, and that possibility made her feel even sillier. It would also reinforce his ridiculous belief that she had a hankering for Adam Logan. Well, she'd just have to do something about that fantasy. Nip it in the bud, as Grandma would say.

  When she lifted her head high and smiled, she felt as if her face would crack with the effort. She knew by the expression on her grandpa's face that she hadn't fooled him, but Ben visibly brightened and Takola didn't look so—so hostile any longer.

  "If y'all catch enough fish, we'll have a fish fry tomorrow evening. How's that?” And while they all nodded enthusiastically, she added cheerfully, “And we'll invite Dr. Martin over to share it with us. Wouldn't that be nice?"

  Ben had yet to learn how to hide his emotions. His happy expression fell as if someone had taken a hand and waved it downward over his face. “But ... how about Sheriff Logan? I bet he'd ... like to come ... too.” He faded into silence as Rusty, Takola, and Lacy stared at him in amazement. “Well, I just thought ... never mind."

  "Go get the fishing poles,” Rusty growled at him. He shook his head in exasperation as Ben pushed his chair back and gathered up his dishes to take to the sink. “Takola, you think you can rustle us up some of those wigglers out by the hog pen?"

  Takola nodded eagerly. She was gone in a heartbeat, leaving Lacy and Rusty alone in the kitchen. Silence stretched, thick with tension.