Stranger in My House (A Murder In Texas) (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Kirby’s Honda turned off the narrow country road, rattled across the gravel drive and under the arch.

Shaw Valley Ranch. She’d never expected to see it again. But here she was.

Her heart was in her throat, although whether from fear or happiness, she couldn’t make out. The fear came from knowing she’d see Seth again and knowing she’d thought of him 24-7 for the past month and knowing he’d not thought enough of her to even send a how-ya-doin’ text.

Happiness because she was coming home. Or at least that’s what it felt like.

Except for the long nights of staring at the ceiling and wondering what Seth was doing, the past month had flown by. She’d told Scott the truth. He took it well. Actually, he said he wasn’t surprised. Then two locals had gone on a mini crime spree as cat burglars. Chasing them down kept her busy for a few weeks.

The worst was working through what to do with Frankie. Charleen’s family had taken Charleen back to Houston to rest beside Joe. But they refused Frankie, so her final journey was up to Tulsa. Kirby anointed her with lavender oil to cleanse her spirit and set an eagle’s feather on her chest to speed her journey, then laid her beneath a simple white cross beside Grandy. The service had been quiet and sad and sparse. Just Kirby, Scott, and few of Grandy’s old friends. Cousin Eenie sent flowers and his regrets.

Still, Frankie had lingered as a sad, guilty memory. Over the phone, Cousin Eenie helped Kirby see that Frankie’s choices were her own, and mentally ill or not, she’d known what she was doing was wrong.

“She wouldn’t have snuck around otherwise,” he said.

But it was hard to accept that she couldn’t save Frankie. Harder to accept that she’d put Frankie’s death on Seth’s head when it should have been on hers. And she’d stopped answering Cousin Eenie’s calls because they reminded her that she’d failed Frankie and she’d failed Seth and lost her right to call the ranch home.

Shaw Valley Ranch in August was dry and brown, compliments of the fierce Texas sun. Above the trees, the chimneys of the big house rose, smokeless and pale against the bright blue sky. A hot wind scattered red dust across the road.

It felt like coming home after a long journey.

But this was a business trip, and a short one at that.

Mr. Cargill had family papers for her to sign. She’d put up a fight, insisting he come to Tulsa, and when that didn’t work, offering to fly to L.A. “The ranch will be yours someday. You can’t stay away forever.” But she’d already worked out that Seth could run it and keep the proceeds and take care of Miss Bea and Susannah. Even raise a family there someday, although she tried not to think about that too much.

She stopped short of the house and closed her eyes. It would take every drop of courage to smile through the coming hours, as if she didn’t care about Seth or miss these people who’d become the only family she had left.

Be still until the mist clears, Kirby-nee. Then you will see where to go.

Grandy’s way of telling her to stop fussing.

Her anxiety fell away. “Stay with me,” she whispered, then put the car in gear and chugged up to the house, trying not to think of the first time she drove here, or the handsome cowboy who’d been waiting for her.

“Wow.” The word burst from her lips.

Someone had gussied up the old house. Pots of geraniums hung from hooks above the porch, and white wicker tables and chairs were lined up along the railing. A woman in yellow—Susannah?—waved at her.

Kirby waved back.

Nervousness forgotten, Kirby jumped out of the car, noting the welcome mat and the jar of sun tea brewing on the steps.

“You’re here!” Susannah said. “We missed you.”

“What are you doing out here? How?”

One of Susannah’s fine brows rose. “Our very strong, very handsome ranch manager picks me up and carries me down the stairs like I’m a feather. Too bad his heart is taken.”

“Taken?” The word kicked her.

Susannah’s smile faded. “I’ve said too much.”

Footsteps echoed against the floor, and Miss Bea appeared at the end of the porch. She carried a white cloth that she shook out and spread over a table. Then she straightened and eyed Kirby.

“It’s good to see you return, Miss Kirby. Since this is where you belong.”

“Bea. Don’t be so bossy,” Susannah said.

“Just saying things how they are,” Miss Bea said. She jerked her head toward the front door. “Go on in. They’re waiting for you.”

Kirby roused herself. She was here to sign papers. “Of course.”

“Dinner’s in one hour. Don’t be late,” Miss Bea said. Another set of footsteps vibrated on the porch, and Angie came around the corner balancing a stack of mismatched dinner plates.

Kirby’s jaw dropped.
Seth’s taken.
Wasn’t that what Susannah said?

“Angie is my new nurse,” Susannah said. “When Bea was arrested and Eenie had to leave me alone to get her out of that horrid jail, we decided more help was needed. Besides, poor Bea deserves a break.”

“
We
decided nothing of the sort. You and Eenie ganged up on me,” Miss Bea said. But she smiled. Her eyes landed on Kirby, and the smile faded. “Go on, now. Don’t keep them waiting.”

“Right. It was nice to see you all.” And she meant it.

Kirby opened the front door.

“She’s here, she’s here. Awk. Hurry, he’s this way.”

It took a moment for Kirby’s eyes to adjust to the dim light. She saw Sarah Slade first, head tilted, sharp beak poking through the bars of her cage. Then a man and a woman materialized in the gloom of the parlor. They stood together, shoulders touching, watching her. She didn’t need to see Seth’s face to know he was the man. His body was as familiar as her dreams.

She blinked a few times to clear her vision. “Seth? It’s me. Kirby.”

They moved closer, stepping into the soft light streaming between the edges of the curtains. Seth, looking solemn and uncomfortable in pressed khakis and a crisp blue cotton shirt, and beside him a beautiful girl with Seth’s dark hair and blue eyes and wide mouth.

Hannah?

Kirby’s gaze flew to Seth. “You found her.”

“Yes. Because of you.”

She stood in the hall like a stupid fool, staring into Seth’s eyes, unable to move or look away, unable to think. And he stared back. Immobile and unreadable. Why was he here, waiting for her? Didn’t he know how much it hurt her to see him?

Hannah cleared her throat.

But still Kirby could not move a single muscle. Or talk. A weight pressed against her chest, and she’d fall apart if she opened her mouth.

Hannah patted Seth’s arm. “I best be getting back to the kitchen. Miss Bea will need me.” Her gaze rested on Kirby for a moment. “I think my brother was trying to thank you.” She touched his arm again. “He’s conversationally challenged, but I love him anyway.” She skittered away.

The silence thickened. Kirby tried to talk past the lump in her throat. “I’m just here to sign some papers. That fool lawyer of Mr. Shaw’s insisted it had to be done in the state of Texas. Never heard of such a thing.” The words fell like lead weights into the space between them.

A haunted, hollow expression flashed across Seth’s face. He turned his head and studied Sarah Slade. “Yeah, well. I have something to show you.”

She couldn’t get tangled up with him again. “I think I better get those papers signed,” she said, glancing up the staircase. Where was Cousin Eenie? He was supposed to be waiting for her.

“Please, Kirby.”

“We said our good-byes, Seth. Why are you doing this?”

He came to her in three quick steps, as if he expected her to run.
Not a bad assumption.
He caught her arm. “Thirty minutes. That’s all I ask.”

There was pain in the depths of his eyes, and he didn’t try to hide it.

She shook away his hand, but denying him…she couldn’t do that. “Twenty.”

“This way.”

She followed him through the kitchen. Brittany and Hannah were hunched over the kitchen table, slicing watermelon. Kirby nodded at them, then followed Seth out the back door.

The ranch had changed. The scented purple heads of lavender had been harvested, leaving behind a carpet of ochre stubble. The lazy, quiet barnyard was a hive of activity. A dozen cowboys were shoeing quarter horses. More were nailing together fencing for new paddocks. Her feet slowed as she took in the changes.

Seth glanced back and stopped. “Cattle will be coming at the end of the month.”

“That’s great.” She was glad Shaw Valley would be a working ranch again, but sad she wouldn’t be part of it.

“Come on.” A rueful smile brought the corners of his mouth down. “I only have twenty minutes.”

He had as long as he wanted—providing she didn’t fall apart—and he knew it. But she followed him down to the barnyard, unable to pull her gaze from his wide shoulders and narrow hips, unable to stop the memory of his bare skin and how it felt against hers.

Manny was waiting in front of the barn with two saddled horses. One was Old Tom. The other a black mare.

She said hi to Manny and patted Old Tom’s nose. Seth took the horses and sent Manny off. Another rueful grin. His fingers toyed nervously with the reins.

“I just bought the mare,” Seth said. “I named her Cherokee.”

What did that mean? He was watching her closely, but she didn’t know what he wanted her to say. “Why?”

He frowned, and his thumb drummed nervously on a brass buckle. “I wanted to give you something.”

“Seth, I can’t keep a horse in Tulsa.”

“At least try her out.”

Kirby wanted to. The mare was a beauty. She glanced down at her shorts and sandals. “I don’t know.”

“You’ll be okay. We’re not going far.”

What the hell.

She swung onto Cherokee, felt the ripple of energy beneath her saddle, saw spirit in the flip of its mane, then she was flying through the harvested lavender beside Seth and Old Tom. Ahead, the ridge loomed, and the deep well of grief she’d tried to bury for the past month yawned wide. At the edge of the field, she pulled up short and stopped.

It took Seth a moment to realize she wasn’t beside him. When he did, he turned Old Tom around and brought him back.

“I can’t go up there, Seth.”

Pain streaked across his face. “I told them it wouldn’t work.”

“Told who what wouldn’t work? What are you talking about? What is going on?”

“They—we—want you to stay.”

An unfamiliar fury twisted through her. “I can’t stay here. You of all people should understand.”

She turned Cherokee around.

“I love you.”

It came out a little shaky, but his voice was deep, and the way it hit her—through the heart like a stone from a slingshot—she knew he’d spoken the truth.

She brought the horse back around. Seth watched her warily.

“Susannah said your heart was taken, and I saw Angie, and well, I thought you’d moved on.”

A bitter, barking laugh raised his chin. He looked away from her. “I’m afraid, Kirby. What if I can’t make you happy?” He took a deep breath. “What if I always remind you of—of that day, and what I did?”

She let her gaze travel over the shaved field, the busy barn, the twist of fruit trees, the seared land rolling toward the horizon. And then the ridge. The branches of a live oak lifted in the soft breeze like angel’s wings. Perfumed tendrils of lavender rode the air on a magic carpet. Tranquility and peace tumbled through the woods like bear cubs.

She didn’t look at Seth. But she could feel him beside her. His strength, his need, his love. Maybe it was enough. “Weren’t you going to show me something?”

“Come on, then,” he said.

When they crested the ridge, the scent of lavender grew stronger, curling through the trees to greet her. She turned to Seth. “Is that lavender?”

“Come see for yourself.”

She tied up Cherokee beside Old Tom and walked through the woods with Seth. The crunch of their feet against the leaves felt good. Solid. She was alive.
They
were alive.

She saw it then. Why he’d brought her here. Beside the quarry a newly cut limestone marker stood in a patch of lavender.
Frances Charleen Swallow
and
Charleen Higgins Swallow
were written across the top. Beneath the names were the words,

Love
doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,

Doesn’t revel when others grovel,

Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,

Puts up with anything,

Trusts God always,

Always looks for the best,

Never looks back,

But keeps going to the end.

“Oh. Seth.” She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I looked the verse up. Had to borrow a Bible from Manny. To show you how sorry we—I—am about…everything.”

She’d been trying to work through her grief with reason. Why had Frankie done it? Who was to blame? What could Kirby have done differently? But grief wasn’t born of reason. They were as different as a thunderstorm and an ocean.

She closed her eyes and saw the bottom of the quarry, saw the chipped stone and the feathery green creatures that swayed like hula girls at the bottom, and she saw Grandy.

He’s coming for you, Kirby-nee.

Grandy had been there. But not for her. He’d been there for Frankie. And Kirby knew in the same way she knew her own breath and the sound of her voice, he’d taken Frankie through to the light.

And when the time came, he’d come back for Kirby.

That’s all there was to know.

He’s coming for you.

She’d been wrong about Seth. Grandy would have loved him. He’d have seen what Kirby saw. A sturdy spirit beneath sinew. The solid wall of man and the true heart beneath. The grit and the bullheadedness, the caring and the honor. The man she loved.

“I love you, too, Seth.”

The world dissolved in smudges of green trees and white cliff and black water. There was pale blue shirt and sun-bronzed skin. She found his mouth, felt it press gently against her lips, felt the silent promise of constancy pass into her with his breath.