Fatal Burn Page 4

  He sauntered down the long aisle and stood before her, a good six feet of casual male grace dressed in faded jeans and a leather jacket cut trim at his narrow waist.

  He hooked a thumb in a front pocket and swept his hat off with his other hand. “Well, ma’am, if I don’t follow through, Carrie won’t be happy—and then she probably won’t fix me dinner.” The long dimples bracketing his mouth deepened. “And dinner is something I surely hate to miss.”

  He took a long, measuring glance down the aisle to the mountains of boxes and old furnishings still filling most of the dog pens. “All this stuff has to go?”

  “I wish it were that easy.” Kris glanced down the aisle and sighed. “Some of it, yes—the mice have had a field day with the linens and such. But still, there are some treasures mixed in with the trash.”

  “Treasures?”

  “Of sorts.” She dredged up a smile. “Did you know my aunt very well?”

  “Thalia was my neighbor, but also a friend. She was one of the more interesting gals in town, honestly. A real free spirit and as straightforward as they come.”

  “I just wish I’d met her. I didn’t even know she existed until after she was gone. And from some of the things I’ve been finding here, I think I would have enjoyed her so much.”

  He nodded. “I sure did. If you ever wanted an honest opinion about anything, you didn’t need to go any farther than Thalia’s front door.”

  “I can imagine.” Kris laughed.

  “And she definitely wasn’t just a Sunday Christian. She lived her faith by helping anyone who needed help, no matter who they were…but she wasn’t looking for recognition or thanks.” His mouth lifted into a wry grin. “She was the kind of gal who made you wish your own faith was a whole lot stronger.”

  Since starting to go through Thalia’s things in the kennel, Kris had felt an empty place in her heart start to grow. Now it expanded even more. What would it be like to be so secure in your faith?

  Kris truly did believe in God. She just wasn’t too sure that He cared a lot about her. If He hadn’t protected Laura all those years ago, as sweet as she’d been, what were the chances that He was going to carefully watch over someone like Kris—much less forgive her for what she’d done?

  She’d tried not to dwell on it. She’d worked hard to live a good life since. But nothing could ever erase her past, and it was all still there for anyone to find, back in her legal records. A time bomb, just waiting to go off.

  “Quite a few things need to go to the landfill, and some boxes I’ll be taking to Goodwill. But there are so many interesting books and mementos from her travels—not to mention all of her art supplies and her beautiful pottery and paintings. I can’t believe it was all thrown in boxes and hauled out here for storage.”

  Trace frowned. “For a while, everyone assumed there were no relatives. The lawyer probably hired someone to clear out the house, to get ready for an auction.”

  “It’s so sad, to think of Thalia’s life almost being erased by the sale of her property, with no one left to treasure her memory.”

  “Until you were found,” Trace said with a smile. “But she wasn’t just the sum of her possessions. Memorial contributions in her name were used to refurbish the library down at the community church, and for buying new hymnals. And I know people will long remember all of her efforts with the county fair and beautification projects in town. There was mention in the local paper about naming one of the fairground buildings after her, in recognition of all of the fundraising she did.”

  “Thank you,” Kris said quietly. “I felt so disconnected here, looking at a stranger’s things and trying to make sense of it all. I’m glad to know a little bit more about my aunt. You’ve helped make her seem more real to me.”

  “So,” he said, his gaze flicking from one end of the building to the other, “tell me what you want me to do. Can I help you haul anything to the landfill?”

  Clearly, the moment for friendly conversation was over, and now it was time to get down to business…or else. “The dog pens have numbered signs at the top of each gate. I’ve been putting the trash in ten and eleven, and the boxes that’ll go to the cabin are in thirteen. But really, you don’t need to—”

  A frown flickered across his expression. “But this is why I came.”

  He strode down to pick up a load of crumbling cardboard boxes, took them outside, then returned for another load. She tagged along, carrying out one load after another, until the trailer was filled once again.

  “Whew,” she said, as she shoved a final box in place. “I think this does it.”

  Trace tipped his head towards his crew cab pickup. “Let’s keep going. We can put a good-size load in the back of my pickup and just tie it all down. I’ve got some rope.”

  “But then you’d have to go along to the county landfill,” she protested. “That takes quite a while, and you’ve already done so much. You saved me at least a half a day with all you’ve been carrying—and you took the time to introduce me to Polly, too.”

  “I consider this a last favor for Thalia,” he said. “She’d like to know her home was going to be taken care of and that someone would love it just as she did.”

  Kris felt a flash of guilt. Was that why he seemed so brusque today, as if he’d already decided Kris would be a quitter—a traitor to the memory of an aunt she’d never even met?

  He turned on his heel and silently went back into the building, then returned with a stack of two boxes in his arms. With a shrug, Kris followed suit.

  No matter what Trace thought of her, she was still thankful for his help. Though, between having Carrie here or her handsome, distant brother, Carrie was definitely the more enjoyable of the two.

  Seeing progress lifted Kris’s spirits. The ring of her cell phone a few minutes after Trace left—then reading the caller’s name on the screen—splintered her optimism into shards at her feet.

  “Hey, babe.”

  The wheedling tone made her skin crawl. She closed her eyes. “Allan. How did you get my new cell number?”

  “What? You didn’t think I would—especially since you’ve had such good luck?” His voice lowered to a seductive purr. “You must be sitting pretty, now that you own a fancy place in the mountains.”

  She opened her eyes again and surveyed the shabby buildings; the piles of refuse beside the kennel. “Not fancy. Run-down. Very, very run-down.”

  “But it just landed in your lap, didn’t it? The windfall we always dreamed about. Easy street. That property must be worth millions up there. We can finally make a real go of being together.”

  Her stomach turned. “We never had dreams like that. You’re the one who wanted to be handed life on a silver platter. And that’s how you ended up in jail.”

  “I ended up in jail because of you, and then you had the gall to dump me while I was in there. A good wife doesn’t do that.” His voice snapped across the miles like a whiplash, still carrying his old anger. He’d been controlling during their marriage, and he hadn’t changed a bit since. “You owe me. And you can’t imagine how much my buddies would like some payback, too. If they could find you.”

  “You were all convicted because you were dealing drugs, Allan. It wasn’t because of me.” She fought off a familiar wave of regret. Her life would’ve been so different if he hadn’t come along. “You got what you deserved.”

  “My friends and I think different.” His tone grew silky. “It wouldn’t have cost you a nickel to say the right things to the cops.”

  “I was honest.”

  “Honest?” He swore softly. “Whatever. The guys and I weren’t the only ones using, sugar.”

  “Because you made sure you dragged me right down with you…and I was naive and stupid enough to follow. But I paid the price.”

  “Three years’ probation was nothing compared to incarceration.”

  “Look, I’m done talking to you about this. It’s over. Don’t call again, understand?”

  “Done
? I don’t think so. Don’t make me come after you again.”

  “Your threats were documented by the cops years ago. If there’s any trouble here, they’ll know who to go after.” She took a steadying breath. “So don’t even try.”

  “Then send me a thousand bucks, Krissie. I—I’m in a little trouble, here.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have it.”

  “Sure you do.” His voice dropped to a flat whisper. “Especially since you’d like to find Emma, right?”

  She inhaled sharply. “You know where she is? Is she all right?”

  “I…have friends who’ve seen her.”

  She heard the slight hesitation in his voice, and knew he was hedging. Still…

  “I don’t believe you.” Kris gripped the cell phone tighter, her fingers turning numb.

  “I figured as much, so I asked them to give me some proof.” He snickered. “She said she’s real sorry about that swing-set incident when you were seven. She didn’t mean to hurt you like that. Good enough?”

  Kris touched the tiny, crescent-shaped scar at her temple. I probably told him about the scar myself, years ago. Or did I?

  “Tell me where she is. Please.”

  “Maybe next time.” He rattled off the name and phone number of a drugstore. “If you’re real good. Send the money by wire, babe. I need it today. And I promise, I’ll pay you back.”

  FOUR

  Trace had been pleasant, if not exactly friendly, during his visit yesterday. He’d made it clear that his presence was a favor to his sister and nothing more.

  Yet, to Kris’s surprise, he appeared the following morning at seven and the morning after, with two ranch hands who helped him begin repairing the fence line surrounding the property. When she offered to help, he just gave her a dry smile and nodded toward the kennel. “Only you can decide what to do with all the stuff in there. We’ll take care of this.”

  On Saturday they came once again, and by the time they headed for the ranch pickup, the split-rail fence was finished and the tumbledown corrals out by the barn were in good repair.

  She caught up to him as he and his men were climbing into the truck. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said, a little breathless from the altitude and the deep snow.

  “No problem,” he said with a shrug, standing at the open driver’s-side door. “Couldn’t have done it during the winter if the posts hadn’t been good, but fixing the rails was easy.”

  “Well, believe me—what you did was beyond my skill set. Can I at least offer you guys lunch? Supper?”

  The cowboys on the other side of the truck exchanged hopeful looks, but Trace shook his head. “We’ve got to put together a load of cattle this afternoon. But thanks anyway.” He hiked a thumb toward his companions. “That’s Rex Talbot on the left and Wiley Miller, by the way. They’ve been with me for five or six years. You might see one or the other now and again.”

  Rex, tall and lanky with a perpetual grin, dipped the brim of his hat. “The boss says we oughta check in on you if we’re in the area, ma’am.”

  Surprised and touched by Trace’s thoughtfulness, she tilted her head to study the faint color climbing up Trace’s neck. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

  “Just neighborly.” He climbed behind the wheel, and without another word, the three men left.

  Interesting. Trace had barely spoken to her during any of his visits, yet he’d donated a sizable amount of time to helping a stranger. Was this just a modern-day example of the old code of the West, or did he have a softer side that he didn’t want to reveal?

  “Hey, boss. You going all soft over that little lady next door?” Wiley nudged Rex on the ribs as the two of them piled out of the pickup back at the Rocking R. “I think that filly has caught his eye, don’t you?”

  “Being neighborly,” Trace shot back. “And that’s it.”

  “Not from where I was standin’. You seemed mighty interested whenever she showed up.”

  “Neighbors,” Trace said firmly.

  “She’s sure a looker. Why, if I was free, I’d be chasing after her for sure.”

  “Me, too,” Rex chimed in. “You wouldn’t have a chance, boss. I’d take her out to the Twisted Spur every weekend, and dance up a storm.”

  Trace snorted. “I’m sure a classy woman would just love an offer like that. How you two ever managed to find those good women of yours escapes me.”

  Rex laughed and swept off his hat, revealing a shock of red hair. “Guess I’m tall, dark and handsome. How Wiley did it I’ll never know.”

  Wiley snorted. “Pure charm. Just like them fellas on the TV. Anyone with two eyes could see that.”

  “Well, you two can go out and charm the two-year-old colts this afternoon,” Trace drawled. “Start them off in the arena, then take them up in the hills and put some miles on them. I’ve got to work in the office this afternoon.”

  The ranch hands nodded and sauntered off to the barn, trading good-natured insults on the way. Trace turned on his heel and headed for the ranch office up at the house.

  The boys were dead wrong. He’d been sending them over to work at Kris’s place day after day because she was alone and she needed help…and because Thalia would have liked the fact that neighbors were pitching in to clean up her beloved home. It was what Thalia herself would’ve done for anyone else.

  If he’d appeared to show any interest in Kris, it had been wholly unintentional.

  It had nothing to do with her slender figure, or the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her hopes for the future.

  Or her gentle, loving touch with her old dog, showing a side of her that she mostly kept hidden.

  Some men liked their women soft and sweet like pretty clinging vines who wanted someone to shelter them and make every decision. But after growing up with a mother and sister like his, Trace found strength more appealing than just a pretty face, and dogged determination more appealing than any silvery laugh or flashing, flirtatious smile.

  Kris had all of those qualities in spades.

  But Wiley’s and Rex’s comments had doused the embers of interest that had started flickering in his midsection as neatly as if they’d dropped a bucket of ice water over his head.

  He strode into the house, down the hallway to his office and settled behind his desk, where stacks of livestock records and invoices and bills awaited him.

  They’d been joking. It didn’t mean a thing, but it was still a reminder of the road he’d been down not long ago. His fiancée and a trusted friend had headed off into the sunset together without so much as a second glance back.

  Seeing Wind Hill Ranch through the eyes of a county inspector made Kris realize she still had a long, long way to go.

  Erwin Foster, a slender man with a tidy David Niven mustache and a shock of white hair, stalked through the kennel and barn with a clipboard in hand, writing pages upon pages of notes.

  He’d told her to just sit tight until he finished, so she’d been pacing the confines of the small office in the kennel for the past hour, her arms wrapped around her middle to contain the butterflies trying to escape. Now, watching him heading her way with a grim expression on his face, she prepared herself for the worst.

  “Well,” he said, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “You requested a preliminary report, but I’m afraid you’ve got a long ways to go before we can even consider this place.”

  “I expected that. Do I have much competition?”

  “With the local economy the way it is, the chance for a good income has a lot of people interested. One fella’s place is nearly up to code already…and a couple others seem pretty desperate.”

  Disappointment washed through her, and it took a moment for her to find her voice. “Thanks so much for your time, then.”

  “Hold your horses. I didn’t say you should give up.”

  “But—”

  “You have a good, central location, which would save the county money on transportation costs. This property has a number
of other advantages, including the barn, which would be helpful if the county needed to rescue any larger animals.” He gave her a long, measuring look. “If you can make the most crucial improvements and schedule a full inspection in the next thirty days, you’ll have a good chance at the contract. Two weeks would be even better.”

  She swallowed. “Two weeks?”

  He pulled a carbon copy of his inspection form from his clipboard and handed it to her, along with a stapled set of state animal-shelter regulations. “A few of the problems involve outside work that can’t be done until after spring thaw, but we could allow a temporary permit in the meantime. There’s still quite a list—starting with fixing the furnace and the water heater, and issues with the plumbing and electrical wiring. Of course,” he added, waving a hand toward the pens, “the dog runs need to be repaired and the broken windows replaced.”

  Her heart grew heavier with every noncompliance issue she read on the list. “I’m not sure I can afford to hire enough help to get it done in time. I don’t even know who to call.”

  “Like I said, times have been tough around here this winter. There hasn’t been much work, so I think you’ll get some reasonable bids from guys who would do a good job.” He chewed on the end of his pen for a moment, then jotted several names on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. “These names aren’t an official recommendation, you understand. You can ask for more references at the hardware store.”

  “Understood.”

  All too well. With just a few thousand dollars in her savings, did she dare gamble it on the future, or should she play it safe? But when would she ever have another opportunity like this one?

  Feeling a surge of hope, she extended her hand to shake his. “I appreciate your advice. I’m going to work 24/7, and do whatever I can, so maybe this place will be ready to pass your inspection, the next time around.”

  As soon as the inspector left, Kris started calling. The first two guys on the inspector’s list were booked until spring. The third, a handyman named Herb from Battle Lake, was a retired contractor with a variety of skills. He was not only available thanks to a job cancellation but was well-versed on building codes and didn’t seem daunted by the long list of corrections.