The Reluctant Rancher~Badlands (Contemporary Western Romantic Suspense) (23 page)

E.J. recognized Eldon’s handwriting on the outside of the envelope and felt a surge of emotion crowd his chest. He reached for the envelope and tucked it inside his jacket. Although he didn’t intend to hold any secrets from Jenna, he didn’t feel this stuffy office was the place to be reading a pe
rsonal message from his father.

The attorney folded the papers and handed a copy to
E.J.. “I’ll have the will filed in probate court this afternoon. You should contact your father’s accountants and go over everything with them.” The very old man used the armrests of his burgundy leather chair to hoist himself to an upright position. He leaned over the desk to extend his hand to E.J. “I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing. Eldon Kincaid was a fine man.”

E.J. shook Mr. Armbruster’s hand and thanked him. He turned and gestured for Jenna to precede him to the door. When they were in the elevator, he turned to her. “Thanks for being with me. It meant a lot.”

   “Of course, I would be with you. I’m just stunned to hear about all your wealth. I knew you were well-off, but this is almost obscene.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps you’re right. How much is enough?”

She gazed at him earnestly. “I don’t care a bit about what you own. You know that, don’t you?”

He pulled her against him. “I know. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” He pressed a kiss against her temple. “It’s good to know if I lose my shirt, I won’t lose my wife.”

“Wife? That sounds so strange to me.”

“Better get used to it. It’s one of those lifetime deals.”

She smiled up at him. “Best kind of deal.”

~*~

Breck paced.

Cami sat on a straight-backed chair in the
Randall County Attorney’s office, her hands clenched together in her lap. Her throat was dry, but she managed to gather enough moisture to swallow.
Keep breathing…just keep breathing.

“When did you say Mr. Jorgensen will be arriving?” Breck spoke to the receptionist
who had been filing her nails.

She looked up at him, annoyed. “I said
, he should be in around eleven. But it’s not hard and fast. He might decide to go for an early lunch.”

“Would it be an imposition for you to call him and let him know we’re here?”

The receptionist gave him a look that said, all too clearly, ‘Yes, it would be a great imposition and shame on you for asking it of me’. She reached for the phone and punched in a number. After a pause, she said, “Sir? Mr. Ryan, from Langston, is here to see you. No, he doesn’t have an appointment.”

There was another long pause.
“Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.”

She turned to Breck, a tight smirk of her face. “Mr. Jorgensen will be here shortly. He said for you to wait.”

“Thank you for your trouble.” Breck crossed the room to take the seat beside Cami. He reached over to squeeze her hand. “Just relax.”

Good advice. Now, how do I do that when everything I hold dear is on the line?
She smiled and tried to appear calm while the storm raged within her.

Twenty minutes later, the receptionist’s board buzzed
. She spoke into the receiver and then turned to the Ryans. “Mr. Jorgensen will see you now.” She stood and escorted them to his office.

Cami had the feeling that Breck was more stressed than he appeared. He gestured for her to go before him into the office. The scent of cigars assailed her nostrils as she took the first few steps. She stopped short, but felt Breck’s hand in the small of he
r back, propelling her forward.

Behind the desk, a small man with a small, somewhat pointed head rose from his chair to extend a
small hand toward Breck. “Breckenridge T. Ryan. And who is this lovely lady?” He extended the same hand to Cami in turn.

“I’m proud to introduce my bride, Doctor Camryn Carmichael Ryan.”

“Carmichael?” he said. “Any relation to Silky Carmichael?”

“She was my great-aunt,” Cami said, her voice sounding
weak and rusty to her own ears.

“Fine woman.
I admired her greatly.” Mr. Jorgensen gestured to the chairs. “Please sit down and tell me what brings you here this morning?”

Breck took a deep breath and let it out all at once. “I just wanted to bring something to your attention regarding the death of Miss Silky Carmichael.” He glanced at Cami and then turned his full attention to the man sitting behind the desk. “As you are no doubt aware, Miss Silky was murdered
in cold blood by Eldon Kincaid. A crime to which he confessed and was subsequently sentenced to life at James V. Alred maximum security prison.”

“Yes, I recall.
Shocking. Utterly shocking.”

Breck nodded. “And Eldon Kincaid was recently murdered in prison.”

Again, Jorgensen nodded.

“It turns out my wife was instrumental in getting Kincaid to confess. He had lured her to the caves on our property with the intention of murdering her as well, but the horse my wife was riding stomped Kincaid and she actually saved his life by sheltering him in the cave as a blue
norther was headed our way. We had search parties out looking for them, and during the time she was waiting for rescue, she stumbled upon two mummified bodies deeper in the caves.”

Mr. Jorgensen frowned and rested his chin on his fist, his expression unreadable. “Go on.”

“I guess he didn’t think he was going to make it out alive, because Kincaid confessed to her that he had murdered the couple years ago. And later, at the hospital, he agreed to plead guilty to the murder of Silky Carmichael if my wife would remain silent about the bodies in the cave. There was no physical evidence to tie him to Silky’s death, so my wife thought this was the only way he would ever face justice for what he’d done.”

Jorgensen remained as a sta
tue, his expression unchanged.

The tightness in Cami’s chest was suffocating her. She cautiously drew in a breath and silently exhaled, trying not to bring attention to herself.

Jorgensen turned abruptly to gaze at her, the frown deepening. “So, Kincaid confessed to you that he had murdered a couple years ago and you agreed to keep silent if he pled guilty to murdering your great-aunt.”

Cami nodded furiously.
“And to attempting to kill me.”

“I see.” He turned back to Breck. “Go on.”

“This past week, two fresh bodies were discovered in the caves as well as those of the original couple. My wife told our local sheriff about her agreement with Kincaid. She had no idea at the time that she had been withholding information, but thought by getting him to confess, she was doing a good thing.”

“And Mrs. Ryan did not divulge this information to you at any time previously?”

“No, sir. She did not.”

The small man swiveled toward Cami again. His gaze felt like laser beams penetrating her flesh.

“I was only thinking about punishing Eldon Kincaid for killing my Aunt Silky.” She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. “I didn’t see any other way.”

“Mr. Jorgensen, my wife is the only doctor in our small town. She also inherited all of Silky Carmichael’s property, stock
, and employees. She has a lot of responsibilities in our community. It seems she’s on call twenty-four hours a day.”

C
ami nodded her head vigorously.

“I see,” Jorgensen said.

“We were concerned she might be held liable for not reporting what she knew about the previous deaths. Any proceedings would endanger her medical license.  I’m just asking you to take that into consideration.”

Another long silence while Jorgensen stared at her. He let out a long sigh. “I received a report from your sheriff, but really hadn’t had time to read it in depth.” He straightened and leaned forward on his elbows. “I feel very strongly you should have come forward with this information, Mrs. Ryan, but I can also understand your feelings. I think we can come to an agreement as to the disposition of this file.”

Cami swallowed hard and glanced at Breck who gave her a slight nod. “Oh, yes. I certainly hope so.”

“Mrs. Ryan…Doctor Ryan.
You may or may not know that Amarillo, the fourteenth largest city in Texas and definitely the largest in the Panhandle area, lies partly in Randall County. There is a clinic located in the south side of town, where migrant farm workers and indigent individuals come to be treated. I might be willing not to seek any form of punishment for your lapse of judgment if you would donate some of your valuable time to this clinic. I warn you, there is very little equipment and even fewer supplies. The clinic is located in a closed-up storefront just to the west of a Catholic Church. Do you think you might be willing to donate two days per month for the next six months to this project?”

Cami sat frozen for a moment.
Is this man actually letting me off the hook in return for a few days of volunteer work in this clinic?

Breck gazed at her
pointedly, nodded his head.

Cami found her voice.
“Oh, of course, Mr. Jorgensen. I would be only too happy to spend time working in the clinic.”

Jorgensen’s eyes crinkled as his face morphed into a wide smile. “See? We found a way to facilitate everyone involved. Thank you, Doctor. I’m sure the unfortunate people served by the clinic will be equally grateful.” He stood to extend a hand toward her.

Cami clasped it and released the breath she had been holding.
Can it really be this simple? Have I actually been cleared?

Breck stood and shook hands
again with Jorgensen. “Thank you so much for your consideration, sir.” He ushered her out of the office and down to the truck before speaking. “I hope you realize how very lucky you were in there.” He opened the door and gave her a hand up into the cab.

“I do,” she said. “And I realize how eloquent you were in pleading my case, Mr. Ryan.” She leaned down to give him a kiss.

Dark eyes skewered her. “Just don’t keep anything from me ever again, Cami. This could have been disastrous all the way around.” He closed the door and rounded the truck to the driver’s side, giving her time to absorb the full impact of his words.

~*~

That afternoon, a very ancient and rusty truck pulled up in front of the store. Old Mrs. Carter ground the gears and stopped the vehicle. It chugged several times before agreeing to stop.

Sara Beth
watched the lady climb out and go around to the passenger side. She was glad to see her since there was neither rhyme nor reason to her arrivals. Mrs. Carter came to town when she had quilts to place on consignment.

Sara Beth was really glad to have good news for the
frail elderly woman. She rushed to open the door. “Good to see you, Mrs. Carter.”

The woman came through the entrance with two large bags in tow.
“Mighty nice to see you too, sweetie.” Mrs. Carter hefted the two bags. “I made some more quilts. Sure hope someone is a-buyin’ ‘em.”

“I’m proud to tell you
I sold three of your lovely quilts and the matching shams.”

The old woman raised her hands to the ceiling. “Thanks be to
Heaven,”

Sara Beth took one of the bags from her and peeked inside. “Oh, this is just beautiful!”

“I got two more in the truck.”

“I’ll get them. You just rest a bit.” She indicated the stool pulled up near the counter. Sara Beth quickly stepped outside and gathered two more paper bags off the floor of the truck. Glancing
at the contents as she carried them inside, she felt a lifting sensation in her chest. The prospect of having new products to sell always excited her. “Let me get the checkbook.”

After Sara Beth had paid Mrs. Carter and arranged the four new quilts on her shelves, the old woman headed for the door.

“I’m a-gonna go straight to your bank and cash this. Then I’m a-gonna git me some groceries and head on home.” She turned back to Sara Beth. “Bless you, honey for helpin’ an old lady out.”

Sara Beth was stunned. She wanted to tell Mrs. Carter how very glad she was to be able to sell
the beautiful handiwork, but the tiny lady was out the door and headed for her truck, the check clasped firmly in her thin hand.

“Well, doesn’t that beat all?”

Sara Beth called the internet service providers and selected the one with the most competitive fees. She arranged to have the monthly charge taken out of her business account.

By the time Frank pulled up in front, Sara Beth felt an unaccustomed surge of joy in her chest. She blushed.
It’s just because I’m excited about the internet thing.
She took a deep breath and expelled it, hoping her color had returned to normal by the time Frank pushed through the door.

“Hey, Sara Beth,” he sang out.

She couldn’t repress her grin. “Hey yourself, cowboy.”

“That’s me.” He winked at her.

Oh, my! Am I flirting?
She struggled to breathe normally. “I signed up with the ISP folks, like you told me.”

“Great,” he said. “Let me get you hooked up.”