Deborah Camp (38 page)

He laid a hand on his holstered gun, which he’d acquired
that morning by trading his cigarette case. Charlie and Lefty had both wanted to trade their revolvers, but Grandy had liked Charlie’s pearl-handled Colt and its black leather gun belt better than the older, clumsy outfit that Lefty offered.

It felt good to have a firearm strapped around his hips again, Grandy thought. Especially good when trouble was about. A man was so damned vulnerable in the West without a trusty pistol on hand. At first he had thought it would be wiser to ride onto Duncan’s property without a weapon and therefore discourage any shooting, but he knew Duncan wasn’t one to fight fair. An unarmed man was easy pickings to Duncan Hathaway. His men would only swear that Grandy had been armed and had drawn first. At least with a proper revolver of his own, Grandy would have a fifty-fifty chance of riding away from this little meeting in one piece.

Drawing a deep breath to calm himself, his senses alert to any sudden movements, Grandy let Countess set a brisk canter toward the outbuildings. Countess had picked up a scent that interested her, flaring her nostrils and increasing the pace. Grandy gave her free rein. As she trotted up the low climbing road, Grandy heard the pounding of other hooves and the deep rumble of voices. Dust spread from the blind side of the big red barn, and Grandy figured he’d find a corral there with some cowpokes working in it.

Countess cleared the edge of the building and the corral came into sight. Three cowboys were hanging or sitting on the far side of the fence, all watching one of their partners trying to stay astride a doubled-up gelding. The smallest cowboy poked the largest one in the ribs and pointed to Grandy.

“Mr. Hathaway!” the large one called, looking into the shadows cast by the barn.

Grandy reined Countess in and studied the shadows from which Duncan finally emerged. As Grandy’s eyes grew more accustomed to the difference between sunlight
and shadow, he saw that Duncan had been leaning against the outside of the barn watching the bucking bronc show. Pleased to be astride a horse with Duncan on foot, Grandy had to fight to keep a grin off his face.

Duncan tucked his thumbs in his waistband. “Well, if it ain’t Zanna’s two-legged mule. You lost, boy?”

The cowhands chuckled and the one on the bucking gelding slid out of the saddle and limped toward the others. Grandy examined each face, but saw no immediate danger reflected there. They were just a loyal audience … for now. He couldn’t help but wonder which ones had helped Duncan stampede the herd.

“You left me a message yesterday and now I’ve got a message for you,” Grandy said, resting his hands on the saddle horn.

“Message? Yesterday? I didn’t leave you nothing. Didn’t even see you.”

“Maybe you’re used to talking to dimwits,” Grandy said, glancing at the other men, “but I’m not one, so let’s cut the bullshit. You rode up yesterday, threatened my wife, and stampeded my cattle.” He held up a hand to stop Duncan’s protest. “Just shut your trap, Hathaway.” Grandy tipped back his hat so Duncan could clearly see his face and the dangerous intent there. “Keep away from Zanna and off Primrose. This is my final warning. Next time I see you on the place or anywhere around my wife, I’ll beat you like a drum.”

“Why you …” Duncan surged forth, but stopped dead still when he saw the gun in Grandy’s hand.

“Keep your head and your distance, Hathaway, or kiss your ass goodbye,” Grandy said, grinning wickedly.

“You ain’t supposed to have a gun. Once I tell Sheriff Warwick about this, he’ll throw your butt back into jail!”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a free man.” He chuckled when Duncan and the other men made sounds of disbelief. “That’s right. Ask the sheriff. Ask anybody in town and they’ll all tell you the same thing. Seems the men who
said I was a criminal took back their stories. The judge overturned my sentence. I’m free as a bird.”

“Then how come you’re still here?” Duncan asked.

“I choose to be, not that it’s any of your business.”

“You’d better hit the road if you value your life,” Duncan said, shaking a finger at Grandy. “And I ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie!”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Grandy said, holstering the Colt. “No more than I’d be of a mad dog. Any man knows that the only way to handle a mad dog is to take careful aim and put him out of his misery. Don’t charge me again, Hathaway, or I’ll do just that.”

Duncan moved slowly to the fence, then faced Grandy again, looking smug as he hooked his elbows on the rail behind him. He glanced at the others and chuckled.

“I ain’t the one you should be afraid of anyways,” he said through a cold smile. “If I was you, I’d be watching my back around Zanna. I hear tell Booker’s been out to see her.” Duncan shook his head and winced. “Yep, you should be getting mighty scared if that’s true. Them two are real good at cooking up ways to get rid of Zanna’s husbands and you’re next in line, boy. If you’re a free man, then Zanna won’t keep you around long. She wants someone she can control. That’s why she killed my brother. No woman ever bossed Fayne Hathaway.”

“Fayne Hathaway was struck by lightning.”

“That’s right,” Duncan agreed, still smiling like a man with a winning poker hand. “Fate stepped in and ruined their plans. But if that lightning hadn’t hit my brother, Zanna and Booker would have carried out their plan. He would have been dead, either way. Better watch out, although your dying wouldn’t be any great loss.”

“You’re lying through your teeth,” Grandy said.

“Ask her. She’ll tell you. She and Booker are up to their necks in fake wills and murder schemes. Just ask her.”

“I will.” Grandy turned Countess around. “In the meantime, you keep away from her.”

“She don’t need your protection, pal.” Duncan laughed and the others joined in. “Why, you guarding her is like a mouse guarding a cat. While you’re looking out for her, she just might eat you up, boy!”

Zanna reached into the straw nest and felt the three warm eggs. She pulled them out, one by one, and placed them in her basket, then went to the next nest. A speckled hen eyed her warily, making her laugh.

“Why don’t you go on out with the rest of your sisters?” she asked, shooing the hen with her foot. “I’m not going to let you sit on these eggs. We’re having these for breakfast.”

Something blocked out the hazy sun falling through the open henhouse door. Zanna looked up and smiled when she recognized the broad shoulders and long legs.

“Good morning, Grandy. Have you been out in the cotton field? You got up way before me.”

“I’ve been over to Hathaway Hill.”

“You’ve
what
?” Only then did she notice the gun belt and holster. “Where did you get that weapon?”

“Traded my cigarette case for it.”

“And you wore it over to Hathaway Hill?”

“Sure did. I wasn’t going over there barehanded.” He stepped back, letting the light in again. “Come on out of there. I want to ask you something.”

She obeyed, wondering about the brittle quality in his voice. Duncan must have told him the whole dirty story, she thought. As she emerged from the henhouse, she felt as if she might be coming out of the dark in more ways than one and was surprised to feel a rush of relief. In the sunlight, she examined the gun and recognized it as Charlie’s old one.

“So Charlie has your cigarette case now.”

“Forget the gun. I’ve got some things on my mind.”

“You’ve seen Duncan this morning?”

“That’s right and he told me a few things I want you to deny. I
hope
you deny them. But, mostly, I want the truth. Do you think you can give me that?”

Zanna hitched the basket handle to the crook of her arm and delivered what she hoped was a cool, calm glare. “Ask.”

“Did you and Booker dream up a plan to murder Fayne?”

“Yes.” She marched past him along the walkway he’d built and into the house through the back door. She set the basket on the sideboard, then turned as he burst into the kitchen behind her.

“Yes? You admit it?”

“Certainly. It’s true. What is also true is that neither Theo nor I had anything to do with Fayne’s death. He was struck by lightning while herding cattle.”

“But you and Booker
wanted
to murder him.” Grandy took off his hat and threw it onto the table. “The lightning bolt beat you to the draw.”

“Not exactly.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me, exactly, because I find it difficult to imagine that you—gentle, sweet you—and Booker—frail, fainthearted Booker—could plot to
murder
someone!”

She averted her gaze and blinked aside the tears that sprang to her eyes. So he didn’t think of her as a murderer. Thank heavens! It helped heal her heart.

Last night she’d tossed and turned in her cold, lonely bed and wished for him, ached for him. Had he spent a restless night in the other room? Did his heart bleed a little for her?

“Zanna, are you going to tell me about it?”

“I’ll try, although sometimes I’m not sure I know exactly what happened myself.” She shrugged, searching for a way to make him understand the frantic woman she had once been. “I was different then. I’d come to a place where
I either jumped or pushed. I decided to push, but then I chickened out. I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it. I’d even told Theo that I didn’t want to continue dreaming aloud about Fayne dying and me living on Primrose without him. It was a dream that kept me sane, but after a while it frightened me. It became my nightmare. I still feel guilty that I even discussed such vile things, but I was desperate. I’ll never forgive myself for involving Theo in my silly dreams. What terrified me is that Theo seemed to begin taking them seriously. That’s when I told him we’d never speak of it again.”

“What was the dream? To make it look like an accident?”

She put a hand to her forehead where an ache throbbed between her eyes. “I’m not sure of the details.”

“Oh, Zanna …” He was scolding, doubting.

“It’s true. You know how dreams are—fuzzy, unformed. Theo was the one who did the meticulous planning. I was the one who said I wished Fayne was dead. We talked about drawing up a will. Theo would forge Fayne’s signature—he was certain he could copy it—and Theo would witness it. I began to feel terrible about the whole thing. I didn’t want him to do something drastic. I couldn’t bear to think of that sweet man spending time in prison or being hanged because of me. But Theo was obsessed!” She shook her head wearily and sat down at the kitchen table. “He had this … this dream about me being a widow and marrying him.”

“Did you want to marry Booker?”

“No.” She rubbed the back of her neck and closed her eyes. “Marriage to
anyone
, at that point, held no appeal for me. Besides, Theo wouldn’t be happy on Primrose. He knows nothing about ranching or farming.”

“Zanna, are you
sure
it was lightning that killed Fayne?”

“Positive. Perkins found Fayne and took him into the doctor. Doc Pepperidge said there was no doubt about it.
That thunderstorm was frightening. I remember it well. The lightning was so fierce and constant that it started stampedes all over this part of the county. Fayne went out with the others to try and settle down the cattle. Perkins said he saw a fork of lightning tear through the sky and hit the ground near Fayne. Another followed quickly. Perkins rode over to make sure it hadn’t done any damage or spooked Fayne’s horse and that’s when he found him. His clothes were still smoking. His horse was dead, too.”

Grandy sat down in the other chair and ran his hands through his hair. He was quiet for a minute. Finally, he looked straight at her, his eyes cloudy with questions.

“I can’t believe you’d sit around and discuss a man’s murder! What were you thinking, Zanna?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I had been driven to the brink of insanity! I thought you understood my situation.”

“I thought I did … but murder? Zanna, that’s crazy!”

“Grandville, until you’ve lived day in and day out in fear and subjugation, then you shouldn’t point an accusing finger at me.” She pulled out her hanky and began twisting it, irritated by his inability to understand. “Do you remember how you felt in that jail cell when you were facing your own death with no hope of redemption?”

“That I’ll never forget.”

“Well, that’s how I felt during my marriage. He burned me with matches, he knocked me down steps, he pulled my hair out by handfuls, he punched me in the stomach and murdered our unborn daughter … he made me submit to things that I can’t talk about to this day.” She pulled her quivering lower lip between her teeth and her gaze swept up to his. Grandy’s face blurred with her tears. “So don’t judge me so swiftly! So confidently!”

He tapped one fist against the table. “But there were alternatives to murder, Zanna.”

“What?” she challenged. “Go to the sheriff? The sheriff wouldn’t interfere in problems between a man and his wife, especially when the man was Fayne Hathaway, who
got the sheriff his job in the first place.” She paused, trying to read his mind. “Go to the minister? Preacher Timmons thought Fayne hung the sun and moon and would never believe that he was capable of beating and torturing a woman.” She held up a hand when he started to offer another suggestion. “Doc Pepperidge? Even he refused to acknowledge the truth when he saw it.” She shook her head, sensing he was out of ideas. “Only Theo stood up for me, but he couldn’t do anything legal except speak to Fayne.”

“Did he?”

“Yes.” She brought up her chin with pride. “Of all the men in this county, Theo was the only one brave enough to confront Fayne.”

“And what did Fayne do?”

“He laughed.” Her chin dropped and sadness prevaded her heart. “He laughed and ordered Theo off the property or he’d shoot him.”

“So he was your last hope. Right?”

“Exactly. I had nowhere else to turn. No family, no friends other than Theodore. Of course, I could have done one other thing.”

“What?”

“Swing, like Duncan’s wife.”

“Oh, God, Zanna.” He covered his face with his hands, then moved them up and down briskly as if to dispel gruesome images from his eyes. “Don’t say that.” He looked across the table at her. “I’m beginning to understand … as much as any man can understand. I guess nobody wants to hear about wife beating. It’s too ugly.”