THE BAR WAS just up the street, so Tucker and Kate decided to walk. Tucker stole a look at her as they walked and found himself smiling. She was gutsy; he’d give her that.
The Lucky Horse was one of those old-fashioned bars with a weathered metal sign of a rearing horse out front. There were four vehicles parked at the door, all at odd angles. As they neared, Tucker could hear the blast of the jukebox.
“I wonder what made the horse lucky?” Kate said as he reached for the door. An earsplitting, boot-stomping song blared out, accompanied by the smell of stale beer.
The lumberyard’s cavernous building had been dark but nothing like this bar. What windows there were at the front were covered with a fusion of plants that had grown thick against the glass. Tucker suspected the plants had been alive longer than he had and had grown over the window in their search for sunlight.
A handful of men were draped over the bar, all seeming to be talking at once. Tucker wondered if they’d heard about Madeline’s death. In a small town like this, he figured it would be the biggest news to come down the pike for some time.
But they seemed to be arguing over a ball game. All conversation died instantly as the door opened and they walked in. They all turned in unison to stare at them. As the door closed behind him, his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light. The song on the jukebox ended, pitching the bar into a heavy silence before another one came on just as loudly.
Kate moved to the end of the bar farthest away from the men. Tucker joined her. The bartender studied them for a long moment before he walked with a noticeable limp down the bar.
“Whadda ya need?” From the greeting, Tucker figured Kate was right. Carly Brookshire had called to tell him they were coming.
In his fifties, the man’s buzz-cut dark hair was peppered with gray. He scowled at them from a prematurely haggard face. A pair of hard eyes took them in with a modicum of contempt.
“I’ll take a Bud,” Tucker said and looked to Kate.
“Make mine light with a shot of tequila chaser.”
At the word light, the bartender sneered, but that look vanished quickly after he heard the word tequila.
“Hope you don’t want a lime with that?” he asked, clearly amused.
“Not necessary,” Kate said.
He studied her for a moment, then let out a bark of a laugh and headed back down the bar.
Kate climbed up onto a stool. “And I’ll roll you for the jukebox. Unless there isn’t anything better than that on there.”
He half turned to look at her. Clearly he’d been warned about Kate, but he didn’t seem to mind her mouthiness.
Coming back down the bar, he scooped up some quarters from his tip jar and tossed them on the bar. “My treat. Enjoy yourself.”
“Thanks. I will.” She spun off the stool and went to the jukebox.
Tucker listened to her drop in quarters. A few moments later some soft rock began to play to replace the country boot-stomping. The men down the bar all looked disgusted, but Kate had definitely managed to get their attention.
“You like trouble, don’t you?” Tucker asked when she joined him on the bar stool next to him.
She just smiled.
The bartender brought their drinks, dropped two bar napkins and put a can of beer on each, then poured a shot of tequila from a dusty bottle and put it beside Kate’s. “You need a glass for your beer?” he inquired of her.
She gave him a disbelieving look, downed the tequila and chased it with a long pull from the beer can.
Tucker almost expected her to let out a loud belch. The man seemed to enjoy the show, though. He was smiling and chuckling to himself.
“Now, if you would turn down the jukebox so we can talk,” she said as she leaned her elbows on the bar.
“We have nothing to talk about,” he said, suddenly looking wary again.
“Let’s talk about Madeline Dunn and her family.” She glanced down the bar. “Unless you want me to yell what I have to say over the jukebox.”
“You can’t just come in here—”
Kate spun off her bar stool again, walked over to the jukebox, reached behind it and pulled the plug. The music died off, leaving the bar deathly quiet.
“Hey! You can’t—”
“If it was me,” Tucker said to the bartender, “I’d just tell her where we can find the rest of Madeline Dunn’s immediate family before she starts tearing up this place.”
“What was left of them struck out of here years ago for parts unknown. Now, get out of here before I call the sheriff.”
Tucker tossed down the money for their drinks and motioned to Kate that they were leaving.
“You have to admit that went well,” she said, the moment the bar door closed behind her.
“It’s not over yet. Keep walking,” he said under his breath. They hadn’t gone far when he heard the bar door open and slam shut. “Don’t look—”
But of course she did. “There’re three of them, but they’re just posturing on the front stoop.”
“You are going to be the death of me,” he said but couldn’t help grinning as they headed toward his pickup.
“What about the café?” Kate asked.
“Now doesn’t seem like the time.”
“Well, that was fun,” she said.
“Fun? Only if we get out of here without me getting my butt kicked by those three back there.”
Kate laughed. “You could take all three of them.”
“I’d rather not today, if you don’t mind.”
“Hey!” a male voice called from behind them.
“Keep going to the truck,” Tucker said, handing her the keys.
“Hey—”
Tucker turned to see one of the men from the bar headed toward him. The other two had apparently gone back inside. Still, the last thing he wanted was a confrontation. The years he’d been gone were often filled with a rage he hated. It had taken a long time to get that under control. He didn’t want to go back to using his fists to solve his problems.
The man kept coming toward him and was three yards away when Tucker asked, “Can I do something for you?”
“Probably not, but I can do somethin’ for you.” The man stopped, looked behind him and still seemed to hesitate. “You was asking about the Dunns.”
He nodded, waiting.
“I can tell you where at least three of ’em is.” He motioned with his head toward the west. “Old town cemetery. The others? Who knows.”
“Why is everyone so closed lipped about answering questions about them?” Tucker said.
The man looked away. “This is a small town. A lot of people like to keep their skeletons in the closet, if you know what I mean. Them Dunns? They was a peculiar bunch. Kell, the old man, was one of those lunatic Bible-thumpers. Strange family. Stayed to themselves. People ’round here don’t like talking about ’em, just glad they up and left. Best not to keep askin’ around.”
“Thanks.”
The man shrugged. The bar door opened in the distance behind them. “I should get back. Tell that woman reporter...” He seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. “The townspeople don’t want to see no article about the Dunns, you understand?”
* * *
BILLIE DEE WAS cooking up a batch of her chicken and dumplings when the back door opened. She’d been expecting Henry so she was surprised to see that it was Ashley Jo Somerfield.
“Hello?” the young woman called as she stuck her head in the doorway. “I was told I could come by early any morning I wanted to.”
“Come in,” Billie Dee said as she quickly wiped her hands on her apron and grabbed the door.
“I brought a few things. Mr. Cahill said I had a locker back here in the kitchen?”
She waved the woman in, telling herself she wasn’t hearing a Southern accent under what was obviously educated diction. “I’m Billie Dee Rhodes, the cook,” she said and held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve properly met.”
“Ashley Jo Somerfield. You’re from Texas?” Up close, Ashley Jo was even more striking than she’d been at a distance. But it was her blue eyes that sent Billie Dee’s heart soaring. Eyes so like her own.
She realized that she was staring. Worse, Ashley Jo had asked her a question. “Texas? Yes.”
“Where?”
“Houston,” Billie Dee said. “What about you?”
“I was a military brat, never lived in one place long. Never have been able to.” The young woman had a beautiful smile. It, too, was familiar.
“Well, welcome to Montana and the Stagecoach Saloon,” she said. “I have to ask. What brought you to this part of the world?”
Ashley Jo drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “I’d never been this far west. Or north for that matter.” She shrugged. “I’ve found that sometimes life just takes you to the most unique and interesting places if you let it. Ever feel that way?” Billie Dee could only nod as the young woman continued. “My parents are convinced that I’m looking for something that doesn’t exist.” She laughed. It had a musical sound to it. “Maybe so, but I feel as if there is some part of me I need to find before I can settle down.” She laughed again. “Sorry, I tend to talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“You have no reason to be nervous here,” Billie Dee said. “The Cahills are wonderful to work for.”
“And you’re quite the cook. Something smells wonderful,” Ashley Jo said, stepping past her to the stove. “Let me guess. Chicken and dumplings? I haven’t had that since I left home. My mother uses an old family recipe. I’d swear yours looks and smells just like hers.”
“Your locker’s over here,” Billie Dee said around the knot in her throat. “You can bring a padlock—”
“That’s what Mr. Cahill told me, but I have nothing worth stealing—not that I expect it’s a problem here. I already feel at home.” She met Billie Dee’s gaze and held it. “I felt welcome the moment I walked in and smelled your chili cooking.”
“You must have spent time in Texas,” Billie Dee said.
Just then Darby came downstairs and he and Ashley Jo headed into the bar. A few moments later Henry walked in the back door.
Billie Dee threw herself into his arms. “I have to know if she’s my daughter. I can’t take this not knowing.”
* * *
THE SUN WAS low in the sky by the time Tucker and Kate found the old cemetery miles from town. The landscape was stark. A fierce wind blew a tumbleweed across the road in front of the pickup. In the distance, a hawk circled against a blinding blue sky before catching a thermal and rising to disappear from sight.
The cemetery had the same dismal look as the landscape out here. A half-dozen old dead cottonwoods had grown along a nearby ditch bank. Their stark dark limbs cast eerie shadows over the weathered headstones. Spring hadn’t come yet to this place, adding to the overall gloom.
Tucker parked at the end of the road since there was a chain across the path into the deserted cemetery. He looked over at Kate. She was staring out with a look of revulsion. He thought of her brother and wondered where he was buried and how many times she’d visited his grave over the past nineteen years.
“You’re welcome to wait here,” he said.
She quickly shook her head. “I wouldn’t think of letting you go alone. But I should tell you. I’m deathly afraid of snakes. They don’t even have to be poisonous.”
“What are the chances there are snakes in all those tall weeds?” he joked. “Seriously, stay here. Unless there is something else you’re even more afraid of.”
“Now that you mention it,” she said as if bracing herself to face her worst fear as she opened her door. “I’m also terrified of water.”
“Well, we’re in luck. There isn’t any out here.”
She smiled over at him and stepped out.
Tucker broke a trail through the tall weeds, hoping that if they came upon a snake Kate at least wouldn’t have to deal with it. The air smelled of dust and last fall’s dried vegetation. The wind had laid over huge patches of weeds long ago. Now the gusts that scoured the ridge only managed to kick up dust and howl between the barren dead limbs of the cottonwoods.
“This is like looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least the cemetery is small,” Kate said as they moved through the gravestones. “I wonder why they stopped burying people here?”
Tucker looked around for a moment. He could think of a number of reasons. “I saw a newer cemetery as we left town that was closer and probably had better access to water since it was kept up.”
She nodded as they moved through the weeds and headstones. A dust devil started a few yards away but quickly died off in a shower of grit.
Kate brushed a lock of hair back from her face as she bent to read one of the stones. The breeze felt colder. Or maybe it was just the bleakness of this place and these forgotten deceased.
Tucker was ready to give this up. What was the point, anyway? “I think we should—” The rest of his words died in his throat as he spotted a name that gave him chills. He pulled up short. Madeline Dunn.
“Find it?” Kate asked as she joined him. She let out a breath. “The grandmother.” The stone next to it read Ingrid Dunn. “And that would be the mother, Ingrid the Evil.”
He looked over at her in surprise, realizing that she knew more about this family than he’d thought.
She looked shamefaced for a moment. “Clay. In his journal, he mentioned that Madeline was named after her grandmother. Also, that Madeline had once told him about her crazy mother.”
“His journal?” Tucker’s voice sounded strangled.
“I might not have been completely honest with you,” Kate said, avoiding his gaze. “My brother didn’t just leave a letter. He kept a journal while he was involved with Madeline. He had this idea of becoming a writer someday.” Her voice broke. “So he wrote down everything he knew and felt about her.” As she finally met his eyes, she said, “And what he’d found out about the man Madeline was cheating on him with... You.”
* * *
“YOU JUST DECIDED to tell me that now?” Tucker demanded.
Kate could feel the anger coming off Tucker in waves. “I was going to tell you, but...” She looked into his steely gray gaze, hating that she’d kept this from him.
“But what?”
“The time just didn’t seem right. So I’m telling you now.”
He shook his head and took a few steps away from her. She watched him ball his hands into fists, then release them and ball them again. Finally, he turned toward her. The wind ruffled his dark hair sticking out from under his Stetson as he settled his cold eyes on her again.
She tried not to flinch. “I should have told you.”
“You think?” He narrowed his gaze. “So you knew who I was when you came to Gilt Edge.”
“No. I told you that I thought it was either you or Flint. I thought it was probably Flint, until I found out that you’d left right after high school. I told you. I assumed you left with Madeline.”
“I still don’t understand why you would assume that.”
“Because I couldn’t find her any more than I could find you,” Kate said.
“You really have been looking for me for nineteen years?”
“Not all of that time. I didn’t have the resources when I started my quest at thirteen. Also, you did a very good job of dropping off the grid. I assume that was on purpose, which also led me to believe that you and Madeline were on the run.”
He dragged off his Stetson and raked his fingers through his hair in obvious frustration. Slapping the hat back onto his errant long hair, he took a few deep breaths before he said, “So when a woman’s body was found in the creek next to our ranch...”
“I figured that you killed her.”
He jerked back in shock. “Why would you think that?”
“I didn’t know you yet so it was a reasonable assumption given the way you left town.”
“That’s why you asked me to dinner. Because you thought I was a murderer?”
“That was one of the reasons.”
He shook his head before eyeing her openly. “And the other reason?”
Kate had to look away. “You probably aren’t going to like this, either, but I saw a vulnerability in you. Probably the same one Madeline saw in you.”
“Glad you noticed. Thanks. So then you decided to take advantage of me.”
“No, I...liked you. Maybe I felt a little sorry for you.”
He swore under his breath but softened it with a smile. “And yet at dinner you read me the riot act.”
She laughed. “I was caught between sympathizing since you’d lost the love of your life—at least according to you—and wanting to pick up a chair and hit you with it for being so...”
“Stupid?” he suggested.
“Susceptible,” she said diplomatically.
Tucker chuckled at that. “And by the way, Madeline wasn’t the love of my life.”
She shrugged and felt that ache in the pit of her stomach as jealousy reared its ugly head again. That Tucker still felt something for Madeline after what she’d done to him drove her to distraction. She told herself it was because of her brother, but she knew that was a lie. This man, stupid or vulnerable or susceptible, had gotten to her.
“I’m going to want to see his journal,” Tucker said.
“I know. Maybe that’s another reason I didn’t tell you until now. It’s—”
He nodded as if she didn’t need to tell him and squatted down in front of one of the gravestones. “Private.”
* * *
MISTY DUNN. 10-12-1977–6-5-1999.
What had Tucker hoped to find out here in this godforsaken place? Flint was right. He was looking for closure, but every door he opened seemed to slam shut in his face and leave him even more frustrated.
“You planning to dig up the grave?” Kate asked as she squatted down next to him.
He noticed something moving in the wind. It was the only color on the ground. A deep red petal caught in the base of the weeds. He reached for it, surprised to realize what it was. A rose petal.
“Someone recently left flowers here.” He handed Kate the petal he’d found. She pressed it between her thumb and forefinger, then released it to the wind to watch it fly away.
“It could have blown over from someone else’s grave,” she said and looked around. “Or not.”
Not only did it appear that no one had been out here in years, but also there were no vases on the graves, not even plastic flowers next to any of the headstones. This place was forgotten.
“So did your brother write anything about Misty Dunn?” he asked, still peeved over her keeping the journal a secret from him.
“No. Just Madeline. I don’t think he knew anything about them. So who was she?” She moved closer to stare down at the stone. “Uh, Tucker?” Kate said as she knelt next to him. “Notice anything interesting about those dates?”
His thoughts had been far away. Now he focused in on the date Misty had died and felt his heart lurch in his chest. “That was the year I graduated and left.”
“Misty died not just the year Madeline died—but days after, right? You graduated just before Memorial Day weekend in May?”
“Yes.”
“But that isn’t the only thing.” Her voice sounded strange. “My brother had discovered Madeline’s real birth date. According to this gravestone, Madeline was born on the same day as her sister Misty.”
He stared at the crude numbers cut into the stone. “That can’t be right.”
“Unless they were twins.” Kate stood and let out a sigh of disgust. “Don’t even tell me there was more than one of them.”
His stomach seemed to drop. “Madeline had a twin?”