The Legacy of Copper Creek (9 page)

W
hit drove the ranch truck to the back porch and held the door for Cara. Once inside, they rolled along the curving road that led to the highway.

“That was a great breakfast. I noticed that everybody had seconds and Mad had a third helping.”

That had Cara grinning. “Do I detect a note of relief in your voice?”

He laughed. “Hey, Goldilocks. I never had a doubt you'd charm the entire family with your cooking.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

He reached over and caught her hand. “The first day's always the hardest. From now on, it'll be a piece of cake.”

“Speaking of which…what's your favorite? Chocolate, vanilla, carrot, spinach?”

“Spinach cake?”

He was still holding her hand, and she could feel the heat moving through her veins. “I just wanted to see if you were listening.”

“When you talk, I'm listening.”

“Careful. That's bound to make me feel powerful.”

“Good. It's time you realized your importance.”

She eased her hand away and looked over at him. “Are you trying to send me a message?”

At his raised brow, she added, “Myrna suggested to me this morning that I needed to have more confidence in myself.”

Whit lowered the window and let the fresh breeze in. “Don't let Myrna's looks fool you. She's sharp as a tack and knows how to read people. She's also one of the kindest women I know.”

“How long have you known her?”

“All my life. She was here before I was born. Like Brady, she was never too busy to listen to my problems. No matter how crazy things got around our place, she always had time for me.”

“I wish I'd had people like that in my childhood. I guess that's why I'm drawn to Myrna.”

“She likes you, too.”

“How do you know?”

He shook his head. “With Myrna, you know. She doesn't put on airs. She's honest and direct. If she sees something out of line, she'll let you know.”

He looked over. “You realize, of course, that she set us up.”

“Set us up? For what?”

He chuckled. “The minute she heard Brady say that the pipe wouldn't be delivered until later today, I could see the wheels turning in her head. She decided that we need some time away from the family. The ‘what' is whatever we want to do with that time.” He wiggled his brows like a mock villain. “So what do you say, little lady? Want to get us a case of beer and a hotel room?”

“I think you'd better get your brain engaged in another direction, Cowboy. Let's just get me to Belle's. Then we'll talk about really sexy things like a pair of denims and a couple of shirts for the ranch cook.”

“You really need to put some romance in your life, little woman.”

“Uh-huh.”

As they started into town, he was grinning like a fool. “It's a good thing you didn't jump at the chance of beer and a hotel room.”

“Why?”

“Because there isn't a hotel in town. The closest thing is a ranch bed-and-breakfast.”

“So you were just testing the waters, so to speak?”

He winked as they slowed to a crawl on Main Street. When Whit pulled into a parking slot, he pointed. “There's Belle's. Want me to go with you?”

“While I pick out underwear? I don't think I'd be comfortable with that scene.”

“You forget. My first glimpse of you was in that very sexy thong. And somehow, I just can't get it out of my mind.”

“Well, enjoy the memory, Cowboy.”

“Oh, I do. Often.” He handed her a credit card. “Use this.”

She stared at it and then at his face. “I have my own.”

“You said your abandoned rental car probably maxed it out. Just to be safe, use this.” When he saw that she was about to argue, he added, “You can pay me back later.”

“Okay.” She blew him a kiss as she began crossing the street. “Where will I find you when I'm finished?”

“Don't worry. I'll find you.”

Whit waited until Cara stepped into Belle's before heading down the street.

He opened the door to Chief Ira Pettigrew's office. Ordinarily, Ira's wife, Peggy, was manning the reception desk, but today the chief was alone.

He looked up. Seeing Whit, he walked around his desk to shake hands. “Hey, Whit. What brings you here?”

Whit returned the handshake before sitting across the desk from the chief. “I'm just back from the highlands, and Mad was filling me in on the shooting over at Red Rock.”

Ira nodded. “Nasty business. I was hoping there would be a connection to your daddy's shooting, but Red Rock's chief thinks it's pretty apparent that old Abe's nephew is the shooter. A family feud that got out of control.”

“That's what Mad said.” Whit tapped a finger on the arm of his chair before saying, “I've got something to tell you.”

As quickly as possible, he relayed the story that Cara had told him. When Whit was finished, Ira steepled his hands on his desktop. “If you don't mind bringing her here, I'll ask the sheriff in Red Rock to fax me a photo of the deceased, to see if she can identify him as the rancher she saw.”

Whit nodded. “If he is, then what?”

“Sheriff Hack may want to have a talk with her.”

“Today?”

Ira considered. “One step at a time, Whit. Let me talk to Todd Hack over in Red Rock and see if he has a good, recent photo of Abe Parson. By the time your young lady is finished shopping, I'll try to get a better handle on the matter, and then we'll decide whether or not Sheriff Hack will want to interview her.”

Whit nodded. “That's fair.” He stood and offered his hand. “Thanks, Ira.”

“You're welcome. And thanks for coming in with this information. It may be something, or it may be nothing at all.”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out.” Whit walked to the door and turned. “Now I just need to find a gentle way to let her know I've talked to you about this.”

“I suggest you feed her.” The chief patted his thick middle. “Everything seems better on a full stomach.”

“I'll keep that in mind, Chief.”

Cara walked out of the shop carrying several bulging, handled bags. As soon as she stepped out the door, Whit was there to relieve her of her burden.

After stowing the bags in his truck, he caught her hand.

She glanced at their linked hands, enjoying the quick sizzle of heat. “Where are we going?”

“To pay a call.”

Something in his tone had Cara holding her silence.

They walked leisurely along the street and up the hill toward a church, where bells were just tolling the noon hour. Instead of going inside, Whit led her around the back and through the ornate wrought-iron gate announcing the Copper Creek Cemetery.

They strolled among the headstones until they came to a grave marked with a small flat stone etched simply with
MURDOCH (BEAR) MACKENZIE
.

Whit removed his wide-brimmed hat before dropping to one knee. “Pop, I'd like you to meet Cara Walton.”

Cara knelt beside him and ran a finger over the flat stone.

Seeing it, Whit explained, “Mom didn't want some big, ornate marker like these.” He swept his hand to indicate some of the hundred-year-old crosses and angels and towering obelisks marking some of the nearby graves. “So she's ordered an engraved marble bench. That way whenever we visit, we can just sit in the sunlight or snowflakes and talk awhile the way we always did.”

Cara's eyes widened. “Oh, I love that idea.”

“Yeah. Me too. We all agreed it was the right thing for Pop.”

They remained that way for long, silent minutes before Whit got to his feet and helped Cara up. He slapped his hat against his leg as he turned away. “Bye, Pop. See you later.”

It was so simple, and yet so intimate, Cara felt the sudden sting of tears as they walked from the cemetery and down the hill.

Whit paused. “How about some lunch?”

She nodded. “All right.”

“You have a choice. There's the Boxcar Inn, with family-friendly food like club sandwiches and homemade soup.” Whit pointed to the train boxcar parked in the center of town. “Or Wylie's, home of gut-burning chili and fries or a burger guaranteed to drip juice down the front of every diner's shirt.”

“That all sounds too good to miss. Wylie's.”

“Wylie's it is.” He caught her hand. “I'm warning you. Order a tall glass of ice water along with whatever other beverage you want. You'll need it.”

They were still laughing as they stepped inside the smoky room, where the smell of grease on a grill hung heavy in the air.

Whit breathed deeply. “This is the place I call my second home.”

Just then a woman with orange spiked hair and a voice like a foghorn caught him in a bear hug. “Whit MacKenzie. Now my day is complete.”

He hugged her tightly before saying, “Nonie Claxton, I'd like you to meet Cara Walton.”

“Walton, huh?” Without missing a beat, she said, “You one of those who used to say, ‘Good night, John Boy'?”

“Yep. Walton's Mountain. Of course, that would make me about sixty, wouldn't it?” Cara asked.

Nonie gave a throaty laugh. “She's smart. I like her, Whit.” She gave Cara a long look. “You're not from around these parts.”

“Minerva.”

“Never heard of it. What're you doing with this bad boy?” She caught Cara's arm and said in a loud stage whisper, “Watch yourself, honey. This one's got all the right moves.”

“Is that so?”

“He's a heartbreaker. Ask any woman in Copper Creek. From sixteen to sixty, they've all fallen for him at one time or another.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Nonie turned to Whit. “Park yourselves, and I'll be right over.”

Whit led the way through the crowded tables to a booth in the back. Minutes later Nonie arrived with two tall glasses of ice water and a longneck beer.

“Figured I'd save myself a little time. This is what you wanted, right, Whit?”

“That's right.” He turned to Cara. “What'll you drink?”

She eyed the beer and said, “I think ice water is fine.”

Whit ignored the menu tucked between the salt and pepper shakers and the ketchup and mustard. “What's the special today?”

“Wylie's famous gut-burning chili.”

Whit nodded. “I'll have that.”

Nonie turned to Cara, who said, “I'll have the same.”

“I'll give her this,” Nonie said to Whit. “She's either crazy or very brave.”

“I guess you'll just have to find out.” Whit winked before she turned away.

She returned a short time later and served them two bowls of chili and a tray of assorted cheese, chips, crackers, and onions.

Whit added a little of each to his bowl and dug in.

Cara did the same.

After her first taste, she reached for the glass of water and took a big drink. “You weren't kidding.”

“Told you.” He looked over, spotting her watery eyes. “You going to survive?”

“Oh yeah.” She dug in and managed to empty her bowl while Whit was already tackling his second bowl.

“You're really a glutton for punishment.”

“I'll have you know I have a superior palate.”

“And who told you this giant lie?”

Whit grinned. “Wylie himself.”

“Oh. That explains it.” Cara sat back, sipping the last of her water.

When he'd polished off his second bowl of chili, Whit drained his beer. “While you were shopping, I paid a call on our police chief, Ira Pettigrew.”

Cara visibly tensed.

“I thought I'd share your story with him. I know I should have asked your permission, but I figured it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

She shot him a frosty look. “Wipe that smirk off your face and tell me what Police Chief Ira Pettigrew said.”

“That he'll put in a call to the chief of Red Rock and make a decision whether or not to interview you.”

She folded her hands primly on the table.

Whit couldn't help teasing her a bit. “Well, at least he didn't rush over to Belle's and put the cuffs on you for withholding information.”

She couldn't hold back the grin that curved the corners of her mouth. “Well, there is that.”

He reached across the table and put his hands over hers. “So, you're not mad at me?”

She went very still, absorbing the tingle. Nerves? Or a sexual awareness that was beginning to sharpen each time Whit touched her? “Maybe a little.”

He tightened his grasp on her hands. “Woman, you're killing me.”

Nonie swooped down on them and began piling their dishes on her empty tray. “You're not going for a third, Whit honey?”

“Not today.”

She glanced pointedly at his hand over Cara's. “Yeah, that's what happens when a cowboy's with a pretty girl. The heart wins out over the stomach every time.”

She was still chuckling at her little joke as she placed the check on the table and walked away with a full tray.

“Come on.” Whit peeled off some bills and dropped them on the table before catching Cara's hand and leading her to the door.

Outside, he kept her hand in his until they reached the police station.

Inside, Chief Pettigrew looked up with a smile.

“Chief Pettigrew, this is Cara Walton.”

They shook hands and the chief indicated a chair. “Good timing, Whit. This just came over the fax.”

He handed Cara a grainy black and white photo of an old man in a starched white shirt and clean denims. “According to Sheriff Todd Hack over in Red Rock, this is the most recent photo of the deceased, taken at a church picnic last summer. Is this the man you saw?”

Cara nodded. “I only caught a glimpse of his face, but I'm sure this is the man.”