The Devil's Cradle E-Book

Sylvia Nobel

• Herausgeber: Publishdrive
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2000

Beschreibung

In exchange for an exclusive story, headstrong reporter, Kendall O'Dell is thrust into a series of life-threatening situations when she agrees to accompany 20 yr old Angela Martin to claim her inheritance--a remote gold mining town in Southern Arizona.  Is Angela for real or a clever imposter?  Was her father's recent death actually an accident?  Why was she never told that she had a deranged half-sister who perished in a mysterious fire 18 yrs earlier?  The astounding ending will leave you breathless!

Leseprobe

OTHER TITLES IN

SYLVIA NOBEL’S AWARD-WINNING

KENDALL O’DELL MYSTERY SERIES

Deadly Sanctuary

Dark Moon Crossing

Seeds of Vengeance

Also

Chasing Rayna

A Scent of Jasmine

Published by

Nite Owl Books

Phoenix, Arizona

VISIT OUR WEBSITE:

WWW.NITEOWLBOOKS.COM

TO READ THE FIRST CHAPTEROF EACH BOOK AND FOR UPDATESON BOOK SIGNING APPEARANCES,

SYLVIA’S BLOG OR NEW

RELEASES BY THIS AUTHOR

Phoenix, Arizona

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2000 by Sylvia Nobel

2nd Printing April 2001 - 3rd printing Jan 2004 – 4th printing July 2012

E-book Edition Pub Date: June, 2009

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher.

For information, contact Nite Owl Books

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Phoenix, Arizona 85016-4311

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email: [email protected]

ISBN 978-0966110586

ISBN 978-0966110595 e-book

Cover Design and Interior Illustrations by

ATG Productions, LLC.

Christy A. Moeller – www.atgproductions.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 99-070553

Acknowledgments

The author wished to acknowledge the invaluable assistance of the following people:

John Pintek, former Cochise County Sheriff

Scott Lewis, Mining Engineer

Mark Hay, Geohydrologist

Al Hirales, Copper Queen Mine, Bisbee, AZ

John & Dell Gammon, Gleeson, AZ

Harold Perlman, Pharmacist

Gayle Nobel

Kelly Scott-Olson, ATG Productions

Tim Gorey, Geologist

Leisha

To

My loving family and supportive friends

&

In Memory of Max

There it was again. That feeling. Gnawing at my insides. Disturbing my train of thought. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t shake the growing sense of agitation.

Wedged behind my desk in the small newspaper office, the phone jammed against my ear, I fidgeted in the chair and stared longingly out the smudged window at the cottonwood trees tossing in the sultry August wind that swept across the desert floor every afternoon. In the distance, mountains of hazy purple, crowned with thunderheads taunting the promise of rain, beckoned to me. Massaging the ache in my neck, I tried to refocus my attention to the matter at hand. The disembodied voice droning on and on at the other end of the line was beginning to tax my patience.

I sighed inwardly. Might as well give the feeling a name. Restlessness. I was restless and bored. And trapped. I wondered, not for the first time, if I hadn’t made another one of my colossal blunders of judgement. I seemed to do well in the mistake department.

“Ah hem!” I tuned out the prattling in my ear and glanced at the doorway. Our receptionist, Ginger King, was planted there for the second time since lunch. The look of suppressed excitement on her freckled face, combined with hand gestures that rivaled a navy signalman, left little doubt that she intended to capture my attention this time.

“It’s your brother, Patrick, calling from Pittsburgh again,” she called in a loud whisper, “and I don’t think he’s gonna take no for an answer this time.”

I cupped my hand over the receiver. “Ask him if I can call him back. Markham Bainbridge is on the line and he’s mad as a wet hen.” I paused. “Make that a rooster.”

She grinned at my little joke, but remained firm. “You can’t. He’s fixin’ to catch a plane right shortly and says he’s got something real important to tell ya.”

My heart jolted. Uh oh. The rush of anxiety must have shown on my face because she took a quick step forward. “Now, dumplin’, don’t wet your drawers or nothin’,” she soothed. “Your family’s all hunky-dory, but he told me he’s got a heap o’ news that’ll make your day and then some.”

My innate curiosity got the best of me. I pressed my hand tighter on the mouthpiece. “Tell him to hang on.”

She flashed a hundred-watt grin and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up before turning to leave.

Laughter gathered in my throat. Ginger was such a delight. Quirky. Bubbly. Always upbeat. What would I do without her?

“Miss O’Dell, are you listening to me?” Mr. Bainbridge’s testy voice crackled in my ear.

“Ahhh, yes, yes, I heard you,” I fibbed, straining to remember what he’d said last. “We’re extremely sorry for the misstatement attributed to you and there will be a retraction in Saturday’s paper.”

“Page one?” he goaded.

“Page one. And sorry again for the mix up.” Before he could utter another syllable, I punched the blinking button. “Patrick? This had better be good.”

“Keep your shirt on, Sis,” he chuckled. “How’s it going? You settling into your new duties okay?”

“I guess. Being an editor is certainly no picnic. No wait, it’s a headache and a half.”

His laugh was sympathetic. “You sound just like Dad. He always said reporting in the field was a lot more fun than pushing papers and dealing with all the other crap. But listen, I’ve come across a story you may find interesting,” he announced, a reflective note entering his voice. “You in the market for a scoop?”

“Are you kidding?” I swiped the list of problem calls away and grabbed my notepad. In the background, I could hear the din of airport noise as I waited for him to begin.

“I’ll make this short and sweet, because we’re boarding pretty soon. Okay, here’s what I know. Margie’s second cousin has a girlfriend at her college and her name is...” He paused as if he were reading something. “Angela. Yeah, Angela Martin. Anyway, this girl’s mother passed away last March and she’s been living kind of hand-to- mouth working nights and going to school and then, whammo, out of the blue she gets this really weird letter last week from some doctor she’s never heard of from out there in Arizona.”

I tightened the grip on my pen. “Explain really weird.”

“You’re gonna love this,” he said, raising his voice over the clamor. “The guy claims he knew her mother, Rita, a long time ago and that Angela isn’t really Angela.”

“You lost me.”

“This doctor—Orcutt’s his name—claims her mom gave her a fake identity.”

“Interesting. Why?”

“Angela says she doesn’t have a clue, and she’s also been under the impression her father died when she was a little kid. Well, guess what? He actually just passed away a couple of weeks ago and here’s the corker. She’s the sole heiress to some old mining town out there.”

“A town?”

“Yeah. A whole town.”

“Well, that might be no big deal. There are a lot of played-out mines in this state. Are you talking about a ghost town?”

“No, no. The doctor lives there and apparently mining engineers have discovered a huge new vein of gold. Angela could end up being a very rich young woman.”

“Now this is starting to get good. Tell me more.” I scribbled furiously as he fed me additional information.

When he was finished, I blew out a low whistle. “Pat, this is great stuff. But, why are you torturing me with this gem? I can’t do it justice from here. The story ought to be covered by someone there in Pittsburgh.”

“But, Kendall, the girl is coming out your way.”

“Here? To Arizona?”

“Yeah, silly. Why do you think I called you?”

A spark of anticipation warmed me. “Well, why didn’t you say so? When?”

“The beginning of next week, I think.”

“That soon?” My mind began to work feverishly.

“Yeah. Margie’s helping her book a flight into Tucson.”

“Why Tucson?”

“She’s supposed to see her mother’s lawyer there. Angela said Dr. Orcutt was going to phone her later this week with more details. Oh, listen, Margie told her you’d arrange to have someone meet her at the airport and kind of show her the ropes. Was that okay?”

That was so like my sister-in-law to forge ahead without bothering to check with the parties involved. “Not really. Tucson is a four-hour drive from here and I’m pretty short-handed right now...but I’ll tell you what, if you fly her into Phoenix, I’ll do my best to meet her plane. After that, I don’t know. Is she renting a car?”

“Oops. I forgot to tell you something important. This girl is an epileptic so, she’s not allowed to drive. Listen, Sis,” he said in a distracted tone. “I have to go now.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Just one more thing. Is this girl in agreement? I mean, before I go out on a limb, how do I know she’ll consent to let me write this story?”

“You don’t. I’m just passing along the information Margie gave me,” he said cheerfully. “I guess it will be up to you to convince her.”

“You’re such a dear,” I replied dryly. “How long will she be staying?”

“Don’t know that either. I’ll call you Sunday when I get back from Atlanta.”

By the time I’d thanked him and cradled the phone, my spirits were going through the roof. For the first time in weeks my doldrums completely vanished.

Re-reading the notes, my thoughts leapfrogged over each other until the barest glimmer of an idea began to form. It was illogical. It was unrealistic. But as the concept grew in scope, so did the list of obstacles confronting me.

I jumped up and paced the cluttered room, lamenting my decision to take the reins as editor of the Castle ValleySun. It had seemed like a great idea seven weeks ago, but the naked truth was, it wasn’t fun. And every fiber of my being screamed out for me to get back to what I liked best—investigative reporting. I loved it, I needed it and I could feel clear down to my bone marrow that this was going to be one hell of a good story. The solution was simple enough, I thought, slumping behind the desk once more. All I had to do was find someone to take my place in six days.

The cracked-vinyl chair gave a protesting squeak when I swung around to stare dejectedly out the window as if somehow I expected to find the answer to my dilemma amid the shimmering heat waves rising from the asphalt parking lot.

“Flapdoodle,” I complained aloud, borrowing Ginger’s favorite phrase. “Double flapdoodle!”

“Double Flapdoodle?” inquired a voice behind me. “Now that sounds mighty serious.”

Startled, I looked around to see Tally slouching in the doorway. Before I could answer, he strode in, his boots clicking smartly against the bare concrete floor still awaiting new carpet. He turned the wooden chair in front of my desk around and straddled it. As always, his nearness made my pulse rate pick up considerably.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on those pretty shoulders. What’s up, boss?” He laid his hand out and I slid mine into it.

“Oh...this and that. And quit calling me boss,” I chided with mock severity.

He grinned and pushed his Stetson away from his forehead. “Anything I can do?”

For a moment, I said nothing, just rejoiced in the feel of his fingers closing around my own and the look of genuine affection emanating from his dark eyes.

I’d fallen in love with this quiet, easy-going man the first time I’d laid eyes on him. He’d demonstrated admirably that his feelings were mutual, but even so, we’d come to the conclusion independently that since we’d only known each other barely three months, and each had less-than-successful marriages behind us, it would be unwise to rush things even though Ginger was already working up a list of caterers and busily compiling a guest file.

“Come on, Kendall,” he persisted, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I can tell something’s bugging you.”

I sighed deeply. “Oh, Tally, I’ve got myself boxed into a corner and I don’t know how to get myself out.”

Traces of a smile brushed his mouth. “Now why do I find that hard to believe?”

I knew he was teasing, but his breeziness exacerbated my already souring mood. I pulled my hand away. “Easy for you to say. You’re not stuck in this...this dull, gray jail cell ten hours a day,” I retorted, gesturing impatiently at the pictureless, posterless walls, bared in preparation for painters who’d yet to make an appearance.

“Well now,” he said, tipping his hat back far enough to reveal a few dark curls, “correct me if I’m wrong, but I could have sworn I heard you say something about looking forward to a nice, cozy desk job. Something...mmmmm...a bit more sedate than your last assignment. Something about having a job description that didn’t include the words...” he paused, looking pensive, then raised one hand to stretch invisible words in the air, “possible life-threatening situations may be included...”

I made a face at him. “Okay. Okay. So I was wrong. Sitting around here is giving me a colossal case of cabin fever.” I smacked my palm on the desk for emphasis and Tally just grinned at me, seemingly unaffected by my theatrics.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the phone call from your brother, does it?” he asked quietly.

I stared at him. “How did you know about that?” His bland expression and small shrug said it all. “Oh. Ginger, of course. What was I thinking?” As much as I adored my fun-loving friend, her insatiable penchant for gossip drove me to distraction.

“So,” he continued, “I’ll consider that a yes and ask you again, what’s wrong?”

I pointed to my notes. “I’m bursting to follow up on this.” As I excitedly reiterated Patrick’s story, he seemed only mildly attentive and when I’d finished he said, “Well, it sounds kind of interesting, but nothing to get all riled up about.”

“Kind of interesting?” I leaped to my feet once again. “Don’t you see what an incredible human interest story this is? Think about it. Here’s a young woman who has spent her whole life believing she’s someone else. Why did her mother lie to her? Why was she never told that her father was alive all this time? Up until she received notice a few weeks ago, that is,” I added, my mind creating wondrous possibilities as I paced from one end of the room to another. Suddenly, I pulled up short. “Where is this place, Morgan’s Folly?”

Tally rubbed his chin, frowning in thought. “I think it’s down near Bisbee. Not far from the Mexican border.” He looked around the room. “Tugg used to keep a topographical map in here. Where is it?”

I crossed the room and rummaged around behind one of the scarred bookcases piled high with past issues of the Sun. “Here it is,” I said at length, pulling it out along with a half dozen enormous dust bunnies.

Tally blew off the layer of grime and laid the map flat on the desk. “Morgan’s Folly,” he said, tapping the paper with his forefinger. “And now that you mention it, I remember reading something about it last spring, right around the time you started here.” He stared into space a few seconds, looking hopeful, then blank. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t think of what it was right now, but it’ll come to me.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I said with a disheartened sigh. “There’s no way I can get away to do this story. Even entertaining the possibility is an exercise in futility.”

“Why?”

I fixed him with a look of incredulity. “Who’s going to take my place? Jim? He’s the only full time reporter we’ve got until I can fill the vacancy. And so far, I haven’t had much luck. Even with the new capital, the new equipment coming and,” I brandished my hand about, “this old place finally getting a facelift, applicants haven’t been exactly stampeding in the door.”

“I thought we had an ad running in the Phoenix paper.”

“We do, but only a handful of people have even called. All I can figure is that experienced reporters don’t want to work for some dinky tabloid that only publishes twice a week. And let’s face it, Castle Valley isn’t exactly a Mecca of hot breaking news topics.”

He edged me a wry grin. “Oh, I think you’ve already proven that theory wrong.”

Remembering the excitement and danger of my first, and what proved to be my last really compelling assignment, gave me a momentary rush. “It was pretty exciting, huh?” I glanced at the cast still encasing his injured arm and then we exchanged a solemn look as the memory of that stormy day in June hung between us.

“Come here,” he growled, drawing me close to his lean body. Snuggling happily against his soft cotton shirt, I wrapped my arms around his waist. My lips found his automatically and for a few minutes the irritations of the day faded into insignificance.

“Mmmmm,” I murmured, nuzzling his neck, breathing in the masculine, outdoorsy scent of him. “Why don’t you come over to the house tonight for dinner and then we can watch the moonrise over Castle Rock.”

“Best invitation I’ve had all day,” he replied huskily, dipping his head to extract another kiss from me, his hands gently massaging my back and neck. When we finally drew apart, his sensuous lips broke into that crooked grin I loved so much. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

My half-hearted response snuffed out the fiery glow in his eyes. He dropped his arms to his side. “So, what are you saying? That nothing is going to make you happy unless you and only you get to follow up on this story?”

He was right. Perhaps I was overreacting, but the yearning inside me was so strong, it was almost a physical pain. I looked away. “There’s no point in discussing it further. We don’t have enough support staff, so there’s not a chance in hell I could do it anyway. And that’s that.” I knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

He grasped my shoulders hard. “You’re about as subtle as a loaded freight train. Listen, you know I’d help you out if I could, but if you’ll recall, you assigned me to cover the Cardinal’s training camp in Flagstaff next week. And after that, you know I was planning to go down to San Pedro and buy that stallion I told you about.”

“Thanks for depressing me further.” At the look of displeasure clouding his face, I regretted my words instantly. When? When would I ever learn to keep my big mouth shut?

He gave me a long, level stare. Unlike me, he seemed to be mentally counting to ten before speaking. “What’s wrong with giving Morton Tuggs a call? He and Mary got home from their cruise last week.”

I shot him a look of disbelief, remembering Tugg’s final words before he’d left. ‘Can’t do it anymore, Kendall,’ he’d said to me. ‘The damn job’s too short on fun and too long on stress.’ “Tugg? What makes you think he’d be willing to sub for me?”

“How long will it take you to get the story?”

“I’m not sure. A week, maybe. And who knows, this girl may not want a nosy reporter delving into her private family history.”

“Call him.”

“Even if he did agree, I’d never get past Mary,” I reminded him ungraciously.

Tally tossed me one of his inscrutable looks and strode towards the door, calling back over his shoulder “Your mulishness will always be one of your most endearing qualities.”

I watched him walk away feeling more than a little remorse. Well, that was priceless. Not only had I ruined the romantic moment, I’d solved nothing. If we were still on for this evening, I’d make it a point to make my apology memorable for him.

My despondent mood worsened when Harry announced that the old press we’d been nursing along until the new one arrived had stopped dead in the middle of the print run. Then, Jim called in to say his car had broken down so he couldn’t get to the council meeting and Lupe went home sick.

Sure, I thought glumly, Tugg would be champing at the bit to come back to all these problems. The dream of getting the story wilted and died.

It was closing in on seven o’clock before I wearily shouldered my purse and headed for the front door. I had my hand on the knob when an unseen force seemed to grab hold of me. I stood perfectly still for a minute and then as if in a trance, I retraced my steps to the reception desk and picked up the phone. My mouth was powder dry when the female voice answered. “Mary?” I managed to croak. “This is Kendall O’Dell. Would Tugg happen to be around?”

People never ceased to amaze me, I decided as I sat sipping a glass of fragrant sun tea in Mary’s tidy kitchen the following afternoon while waiting for Tugg. Having come there fully cognizant of the woman’s propensity for zealously safeguarding her husband’s health and welfare, combined with her notorious reputation for pretty much directing every aspect of the man’s life, I expected her to take after me with a broom when I tentatively floated the idea of Tugg temporarily re-assuming his duties as editor. Instead, she dropped her dishcloth and rushed at me, mouth agape, eyes bulging, and crushed me to her generous bosom in a breath-robbing embrace.

“You’re an absolute lifesaver,” she squealed before abruptly lowering her voice to a fierce whisper. “He’s driving me crazy. Stomach ulcers or no, if he doesn’t get busy on something soon and get out of this house for a while...” she paused before concluding ominously, “there may be bloodshed.”

Underneath her bravado, I knew what she meant. Tugg, a big bear of a man, crusty and likable, fit perfectly into the category of workaholic. Life as an invalid would never suit him and I had the feeling he’d rather die with his boots on.

Appearing tanned and rested, Tugg greeted me with enthusiasm and then, with a flushed and anxious Mary urging him on, he readily agreed to my request. Would he be able to fill in for a minimum of one week, possibly two? Absolutely, they both chimed in at once and as I drove away their beaming faces mirrored relief and gratitude.

Elated, I finished out the rest of the week, packed my bags and headed for Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix by seven o’clock Monday morning. As Castle Valley receded behind me, I had to admit to myself that as much as I’d grown to love this dusty little town, it had become my prison. One I’d created for myself albeit, but a prison nonetheless.

My only regret was leaving Tally. Last night, he’d been particularly attentive and again this morning, after likening me to a falcon being freed, he had reluctantly sent me on my way. I could still taste the remains of his urgent, deliciously prolonged kiss that had left my ears ringing and a heat rushing through my veins that rivaled the air temperature.

A master at hiding his true emotions, Tally had worn an expression of tolerant benevolence as he settled me behind the wheel of my car. But when I looked up at him after starting the engine, a wary glint had entered his eyes.

“Think you can stay out of trouble this time?”

I flashed him an impish grin. “Now what fun would that be?”

“I mean it, Kendall.”

Hoping to allay his fears, I’d reminded him again that this assignment bore no resemblance to my previous one. This one was safe. Purely a human interest story. What possible danger could there be?

Content with my decision, I watched the cactus and rock-strewn landscape gradually give way to the vast expanse of asphalt and concrete that transformed Phoenix into a sizzling griddle each summer. I joined the mass of humanity choking the freeway system and crawled my way to the airport.

It was much later than I’d planned by the time I reached the garage and began the quest for an empty space. After circling endlessly, I was fuming aloud as I sped toward the outdoor parking on the roof.

As I searched anew, my mind replayed yesterday’s phone call from Patrick. After giving me the flight number and a brief description of the girl, my sister-in-law, Margie, picked up the extension and filled in some more blanks.

According to her, Angela was still in a complete state of shock over the strange turn of events and even more mystified following Dr. Orcutt’s telephone call on Friday informing her that the attorney in Tucson was holding a confidential letter from her mother. He’d told her it was vitally important that she read it before coming to Morgan’s Folly.

“Angela had other questions but he refused to answer them on the phone,” Margie continued in a gossipy tone. “Don’t you think that’s odd? None of us can figure out why the man is being so secretive about everything. I’m wondering now if we advised her correctly. We might be sending her out there on some wild goose chase.”

My anxious heart thumped harder. “You’re sure she’s really going through with this?”

“Unless she changes her mind at the last minute, that’s the plan,” Patrick broke in. “The poor kid’s never flown before and she’s scared half to death about that, too.” That floored me. I didn’t know anyone who hadn’t been on a plane at least once and decided that this young woman must lead a very sheltered life.

I told them that I’d decided to handle the story personally and to tell Angela or whatever her name was, I’d be available to drive her to Tucson, Morgan’s Folly, or anywhere else she needed to go.

“Do me a favor, would you?” Margie added. “Go easy on her, Kendall. Emotionally, she’s pretty fragile.”

“Well, I was planning to shut her in a small room with a really bright light and grill her with questions.” When I was met with complete silence, I added hastily, “Just kidding, Margie.”

“Oh, good,” continued my humorless sister-in-law. “She’s a darling girl, but kind of...different.”

“Don’t worry,” I’d replied before hanging up, “I’ll be gentle.”

So now, as I parked the car and hurried across the scalding pavement to the elevator, I hoped I’d be able to put this girl at ease enough to confide in me. Uptight people were generally pretty close-mouthed.

Inside the terminal, I checked flight information on the monitors. Crap. Angela’s plane had landed fifteen minutes earlier. It seemed to take hours to get through the congested security area and I was glad that I’d opted for sneakers as I broke into a lope. Dodging the ebb and flow of two-way foot traffic, I finally decided that my attempt to hurry was as useless as trying to swim in a riptide. And, as fate would have it, her flight was at the very furthest gate. The crowd thinned as I reached the far end of the terminal and I picked up my pace again, thinking that perhaps Margie was right. Anxious as I was to learn Angela’s story, I’d best not come on like gangbusters if this girl proved to be as shy and withdrawn as she’d been described.

Short of breath, I pounded down the carpeted hallway, which had suddenly become as noiseless as a hotel corridor on a Christmas morning. I rounded the corner to the waiting area only to feel my heart sink into my shoes. Rows of empty plastic chairs gaped back at me.

I turned in a slow circle, peering in all directions, examining each person who happened by. No one matched the picture I’d formed in my mind of a frail, young woman with dark hair. Where could she have gone so quickly? I wasn’t that late.

Shading my eyes, I squinted through the massive panes of glass out onto the shimmering tarmac where a giant blue and gold jet sat parked. People on carts scurried back and forth while maintenance crews swarmed around the aircraft, prepping for the next flight.

I cursed my fate. This was hardly the best way to begin what might prove to be a tenuous relationship at best with the young stranger. And since I’d already failed the simple test of showing up on time to meet her flight, she just might tell me to take a flying leap and give the story to someone else. And who could blame her?

Mentally kicking myself, I turned to retrace my steps. She must have gone to baggage claim. Where else could she possibly be?

“Oh, miss? Wait a minute!”

I swiveled around to see a blonde woman clad in a blue and gold flight attendant’s uniform, running towards me. “Are you Kendall O’Dell?” she gasped, closing the gap between us.

“Yes, but...”

She assessed the obvious question in my eyes and waved a small piece of paper in the air. “It says here to look for a tall redhead wearing a green T-shirt, so I guessed that had to be you.”

A small knot of consternation formed in my stomach. “Where did you get that?”

“One of our passengers had some kind of a seizure. We found this note in her hand. Can you come with me?”

“Of course.” I fell into step with her. “Where is she?”

“Still on the plane. Her medic-alert bracelet identifies her as epileptic. Do you have any experience with this sort of thing.”

“I’m afraid not.” I followed her up the jet-way wondering what I was getting into. It was ironic that I’d gone to the trouble of picking up two books before leaving Castle Valley. One detailed the history of mining in southern Arizona, and I’d read most of that. The second was a book on epilepsy and unfortunately, it was now residing unread at the bottom of my suitcase. All I could remember from various magazine articles was that seizures were usually categorized as either grand mal or petit mal. The latter would be preferable, I thought grimly.

A tall gray-haired man who appeared to be the pilot and several other flight attendants looked around expectantly as we approached the rear of the airliner. Their collective expressions conveyed a mixture of concern and relief. I hoped I appeared more confident than I felt as the small crowd parted to reveal a young woman with short-cropped brown hair slumped in the aisle seat.

Recalling Patrick’s description, there was little doubt in my mind that this was Angela Martin. As I knelt next to her, noting her pale, almost translucent complexion, I wished I’d taken the time to read the book.

“We’ve sent for the paramedics,” announced the pilot, “and we’ll be boarding passengers as soon as we refuel.” He sounded impatient.

As if she’d heard him, the girl stirred slightly and I noticed an almost imperceptible flicker of her eyelids. Seconds later I was staring into glassy brown eyes. “Angela?” I began in a gentle tone, “I’m Kendall O’Dell. Are you all right? Is there anything we should do?”

She appeared disoriented and slightly fearful as her gaze roamed over the sea of faces bending towards her. She swallowed hard and self-consciously wiped the thin stream of saliva seeping from one corner of her mouth. “No, no,” she said faintly, sitting up straight and taking a few deep breaths. “I’m...I’m fine now. I’m terribly sorry for inconveniencing...”

“That’s quite all right, dear,” said one of the flight attendants, patting her gently on one shoulder. “We’re just glad you’re...awake.”

“Would you like a drink of water or something?” I asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

I made eye contact with the woman who’d chased me down and she gave me a quick nod before heading to the plane’s galley.

Satisfied that the crisis was over, the pilot hurried to cancel the paramedics and the group began to disperse. At Angela’s direction, I located her carry-on luggage a few rows forward and after she’d drunk the water and thanked the attendants once more, we made our way into the terminal.

Judging by the pinched expression on her face, and sensing it was important that I not dwell on what had happened to her on the plane, I bit back the questions I was dying to ask.

While we threaded our way through the burgeoning crowd, she appeared confused, dazed, spacey even, like a small child lost at an amusement park. Patrick had mentioned that she was eight years my junior, but even at twenty she somehow struck me as much younger.

Even though we’d been delayed at least a half an hour, apparently so had the luggage. People were three rows deep at the baggage claim by the time we arrived and the air rumbled with a vociferous chorus of complaints.

Another ten minutes passed before it was announced that the problem had finally been repaired and a cheer erupted as the first bag tumbled down the metal chute.

“It’s about time,” I sighed, turning to Angela. “You’d think that they’d...” My voice trailed off when I noticed her strange expression. Goggle-eyed, she stared as various pieces of luggage slid down and began their journey around the carousel. When the same bags began to pass for the fourth time, I broke the silence between us.

“What exactly are we looking for?”

She turned puzzled eyes on me. “What?”

“What do your suitcases look like?”

“Oh. They’re light blue with red trim.” Her obvious chagrin triggered the faintest flush to appear on her high cheekbones. The small dots of color made the rest of her skin look ghostly white, bluish almost. Was she going to have another seizure?

I pointed to the benches beneath the windows near the exit. “Why don’t you go sit down over there. I’ll get your things.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, pressing a hand to her forehead. “It’s just that I was so nervous about flying and I’m kind of... fuzzy after I have one of my...spells.”

“No problem.” I wished she’d stop apologizing for something she obviously had no control over. After snagging her two bags from the carousel, I motioned towards the door. Being a relative newcomer myself, I sympathized with her reaction of pure shock when the suffocating wall of heat slammed into us.

She stopped dead in her tracks. “It feels like a thousand degrees out here! How do you stand it?”

“With great difficulty. I’ve been burning up since I got here last April but it’s much worse now because of the high humidity. Welcome to Arizona’s rainy season which is called the monsoon.”

“I can hardly breathe.”

I punched the elevator button. “Don’t worry, it’s supposed to be a little cooler where we’re headed.”

“I hope so.”

By the time we reached my car, her steps were faltering and her beet-red face glistened with perspiration. As I loaded the luggage into the trunk, I said with a smile, “People who’ve been here awhile keep assuring me that eventually one does get accustomed to this.”

She cast me a look of sincere doubt when I opened the passenger door and a blast of hot air poured out. “Sorry about that,” I said with an apologetic shrug. “I couldn’t find a space inside the garage.”

Gunning the engine, I dialed the air-conditioner to high and headed for the freeway that would take us south to Tucson. “Do you have the address of the attorney you’re supposed to see?” I asked, glancing in her direction. “What time are you expected?”

She fumbled in her purse. “I told his secretary what time I’d get in and she said anytime after one was okay.”

I glanced at the clock. It was a two hour drive and if we added another hour for lunch that would be just about right. “All right. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the scenery.” She gave me a faint nod, leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

It seemed to take forever to get beyond the sprawling suburbs and strip shopping centers but, as the Phoenix skyline diminished behind us and we cruised into the open desert once more, a heady feeling of freedom gripped me. I was looking forward with great relish to visiting a portion of this fascinating state I’d never seen before, not to mention the anticipation of tackling the new assignment.

We’d passed several towns with interesting names like Sacaton and Casa Grande before I heard her stirring beside me. “Miss O’Dell?”

“Please call me Kendall.”

“Okay. Um...thank you for...everything. I haven’t had an attack like that for a long time. Stress can cause them and with everything that’s happened...”

“I understand.”

She grew silent again but I knew something was wrong because of the way she was gnawing at her fingernails. “Please don’t think I’m being ungrateful,” she suddenly blurted out, “but I’m having a real hard time dealing with all this and to be honest, I don’t know how long, or even if I’m going to stay here at all. But, if I do,” she added, a note of conviction entering her voice, “I’m not sure I want anything printed in your newspaper.”

My heart skipped and I slid a glance at her. The thought of losing this juicy story before I even got it was simply unacceptable. Patrick said it was up to me to convince her, so I’d better get cracking.

“I know how you feel,” I began, choosing my words with care. “Sharing private family matters can be difficult so we’ll just play everything by ear for starters. Later on, if you decide to allow me an exclusive on this, I give you my word that nothing will be printed without your say so. Plus that, I may be able to help you over some rough spots if you’ll let me.”

She said nothing, but appeared to be thinking it over. I charged ahead. “Look, maybe you’d feel more comfortable if you knew a little more about me. What did Margie tell you?”

“Just that you’re divorced, you moved here from Philadelphia last spring because of asthma and that you’re a reporter.”

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Margie to come up with such a brief, insipid biography. “Well, I like to think I have just a bit more depth than that.”

“She also said if you got too pushy and pried too much, I was to send you packing.”

The flare of irritation heated my face. My sister-in-law was a real prize. “I prefer to think of it as perseverance. It’s true that I’ve been accused of being hotheaded at times, and true that patience sometimes eludes me, but I have a good sense of humor, I bathe regularly and,” I said, tossing her an impish grin, “I’m a very good listener.”

Dividing my attention between her and the road, I felt a surge of elation when I was rewarded with the faintest flicker of a smile. “What did Margie and Patrick tell you about me?”

I repeated the information my brother had given me. “He also told me you actually talked to Dr. Orcutt and that he wasn’t very forthcoming with you.”

“That’s for sure. When I first got his letter, I thought it was some kind of a sick joke. And then, when he called, well...he sounded like maybe he was uncomfortable talking to me.”

“What did he tell you?”

“First, I asked him why I should believe any of it and then I got this creepy chill when he started telling me personal stuff about my mother.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“He described what she looked like. He told me her maiden name and he knew the exact day that she died. Things like that. But the really weird part was that he knew all about me. I mean, here’s this stranger on the phone calling me from someplace I never even knew existed and telling me I now own it. It still doesn’t seem real. But the hardest part...” she faltered, swallowing hard, “is finding out that my mother lied to me all these years. Why would she do that?”

I glanced at her stricken face, but decided not to speculate until I had more facts. “Perhaps the letter will help explain things.”

“I hope so. Right now, I feel like my whole life has been one huge question mark.”

“What do you mean?”

“A thousand things. Like…why we moved around so often, or why our phone number was always unlisted, or why we got our mail at a Post Office box? I always felt like we were on the run from something. You know, like we were in the Witness Protection Program, or something. I used to imagine all kinds of crazy stuff.”

“Did you ever ask about your father?”

“Sure. Lots of times. But she never wanted to talk about the past. And whenever I’d bring him up, she’d get this weird look on her face. Then she’d get real moody and sad. Sometimes, I’d find her sitting alone crying, and then I’d feel awful. So,” she said, exhaling a deep sigh, “after a while, I just quit asking. But, she did other strange things too.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, tons of things now that I think about it. You know, I didn’t even know my illness was called epilepsy until after she died!”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. She acted like...I don’t know, like she was ashamed of it or something. She told me it was just fainting spells and to never, ever talk about it with anyone.”

“Didn’t she take you to a doctor?”

“Oh, sure, I had a bunch of brain tests. EEG’s they’re called, and I take medicine, but the doctor didn’t give it a name either. It was just ‘my condition’ and,” her voice held a touch of resentment when she added, “I thought I had some horrible disease, like leprosy.”

I frowned in disbelief. “That seems rather cruel.”

“I guess, in a way, but then my mom fussed over me a lot of the time too. I always thought she was just being overprotective, but now...I don’t know.”

I edged another look at her. She seemed to be ruminating more to herself than confessing to me. But I was glad that she now felt confident enough to confide in me, so I offered no further opinion.

For a while then we rode in silence, both occupied with our private thoughts until I heard her murmur, “The landscape here seems strange. Dry and lonesome looking.”

She was squinting across a particularly barren stretch of sparsely foliated sand toward a row of jagged mountains on the horizon which, according to the map I’d studied earlier, were aptly named the Sawtooth Range.

I knew what she meant, I thought, adjusting my sun- glasses against the glare. Having also grown up among dense green forests and friendly rolling hills, my first impression of Arizona had struck me as a forbidding composite of cactus and rock and sunlight so harsh, at times it seemed to burn the color from the sky.

“I know you said it’s the rainy season, but it sure doesn’t look like it ever rains,” she remarked, watching a dust devil spiral past. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. I’d uttered those exact words myself less than four months ago.“By the way,” she said, yawning, “Dr. Orcutt’s nurse called late last night to give me a message from him. He suggested that after my meeting in Tucson, it would be much easier if we take the shortcut. She told me we’ll save about an hour’s driving time and can probably be there by dinner time.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a shortcut.”

She rummaged around in her purse again and extracted a scrap of paper. “We’re supposed to take the old road. State route 181.”

“I wonder why Dr. Orcutt didn’t call and tell you this himself?”

“Who knows? Maybe he was busy delivering a baby or something.”

“Okay, I’ll check the map when we stop for gas.”

We cruised past an eye-catching rock formation called Picacho Peak and reached Tucson before noon. The downtown district appeared to be much smaller than Phoenix, boasting an assortment of mid-size office buildings and only a few high-rises. One in particular stood tall against the desert terrain like a gleaming block of blue ice. Once we pulled off the freeway onto the side streets, the graceful pueblo-style homes showed off the distinct Spanish influence. I was impressed with the clear, smog-free air and stunning beauty of the Santa Catalina and Santa Rita Mountains, which rose majestically in the distance. We had lunch and gassed up the car before driving to the address Angela read to me. When I pulled into the parking area of the coral adobe-walled office building, she seemed visibly nervous as she actively chewed on one thumbnail.

Once inside, I accompanied her along a plant-studded hallway until we reached a door that read: Clarence Hutton Attorney-at-Law.

“I need to check in with my office,” I said, tapping my watch. “But I’ll go in if you like.”

She seemed to be weighing my offer then all at once she squared her jaw. “That’s okay, Kendall. I think I need to do this alone.”

Bravo! I cheered to myself. Underneath her timorous demeanor ran a semblance of backbone. “Okay. I’m going to find a phone then I’ll wait for you over there.” I gestured towards two armchairs flanking the elevator.

Back in the lobby, I waited a few minutes for an elderly woman to finish her conversation, then punched in all the necessary numbers from my calling card. After a few rings I heard Ginger’s cheery voice. “Castle Valley Sun.”

I chatted with her a few minutes and then asked to speak to Tugg. “Sure thing, sugar pie, but before I connect you, I thought you’d like to know that Tally’s already pining away for you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he told me to be sure ‘n tell him the very second you called `cuz he needs to yak at you a spell.”

I laughed at her colorful Texas dialect and told her I’d be tickled pink. A thrill of delight raced through me just knowing I’d get to speak to him one more time today.

After answering several office-related questions for Tugg, I felt more and more positive that I’d made the right decision. Judging from the lilt in his voice, he sounded happy to be ensconced in the spot I’d just liberated myself from. With a promise to phone him tomorrow, we said our good-byes and he transferred me to Tally’s extension.

“Hey there,” came his pleasant baritone over the line. “How’s it going?”

“Okay so far. We’re still in Tucson and I don’t have much to report yet. So, what’s up? You miss me?”

“Yeah, I miss you,” he replied gruffly, “but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

I tried my best to sound coquettish. “And here I was hoping that it was.”

“You remember that article on Morgan’s Folly I was telling you about?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I found it.”

Did I detect a somber edge to his words? “And?”

“How about I read it to you.”

“Okay.”

For a few seconds there was nothing but the sound of paper crinkling in my ear before he said, “Here goes. Thursday night, May 3rd, sixty-four year old Grady Morgan, owner and operator of the once-prosperous Morgan Mining Company, sustained serious head injuries resulting from a fall from the second story balcony of his home. The examining physician called to the scene confirmed that alcohol could have been a factor.

Mr. Morgan was rushed by ambulance to the hospital in Bisbee twenty miles away and from there was flown to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix where he is listed in critical condition.

Morgan’s housekeeper, Marta Nuñez, claimed that she heard shouts and witnessed what appeared to be the figure of a woman fleeing the scene. Deputy Sheriff Clark Brewster stated, “As a result of initial investigations by sheriff’s detectives, there is no evidence at this time to indicate that Mr. Morgan’s fall was anything other than accidental.”

As I stood there silently digesting all the data, his voice turned ominous. “I think the operative words are ‘at this time,’ don’t you?”

The same three words that apparently disturbed him lit a fire in me. “Sounds intriguing.”

“Keeping in mind that Grady Morgan died since this was written, it is possible the focus of the investigation may have changed by now so your cock-sure assessment that this story holds no danger may not be correct after all.”

There was no mistaking the uneasiness in his tone, but I was undeterred. “Tally, I can’t back out now.”

“I’m not suggesting that, Kendall, but I hope you’ll be on your guard. I’d like to have every luscious inch of you back in one piece.”

I warmed to his obvious concern. “I’ll be careful, and you be careful too. As far as I’m concerned, you could be in more danger from Mexican bandits down there than I could ever be.”

He chuckled. “Okay, we’re even. So long for now, beautiful boss lady.”

Was I lucky or what? “Bye yourself, handsome cowboy.”

I sighed happily and was poised to hang up when I heard Ginger in the background demanding to speak to me.

“Hey, girlfriend,” she said, coming on the line again. “Y’all been listening to the radio?”

“No. Why?”

“There’s one humdinger of a storm blowing in. The weatherman says it’s the tail end of one of them big `ol tropical storms so you better watch your butt.”

I turned to the wide picture window. Sure enough, massive clouds with billowing cauliflower tops pushed skyward over the southeastern horizon like great white cathedrals. It looked like the normal afternoon buildup of clouds, but a tiny shudder of apprehension raced through me. “Thanks, Ginger. I’m sure we’ll be there long before anything major develops.”

I hadn’t planned to talk for twenty minutes and hoped Angela hadn’t been waiting too long as I retraced my steps towards the lawyer’s office. When I didn’t see her, I settled into one of the chairs with a magazine, thinking that her meeting must have entailed more than just picking up a letter.

Moments later I heard what sounded like a muffled sob. Mystified, I turned to look behind me, seeing nothing but a few potted plants in a dimly lit corridor leading to an exit. When I heard the sound again, I rose to investigate.

My breath caught when I spied Angela hunched on the floor beside a leafy rubber plant, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, a wad of papers clutched in one hand. She rocked back and forth as silent tears streamed down her face.

Had she suffered another seizure? My initial shock dissolved into concern as I knelt in front of her. “Angela, what’s wrong?”

The eyes that met mine were deep, dark pools of misery. “Angela doesn’t exist,” she whimpered. “She never existed. And neither do I.”

At first she was inconsolable, alternating between sobs, bursts of hysterical laughter, and babbling almost incoherently about her father, and her birthday not being in April after all. I finally got her settled down and escorted her into the ladies room. While she was splashing water on her tear-streaked face, I began to read over some of the papers she’d pressed into my hand.       

The first bundle contained various personal papers belonging to her mother, a birth certificate, a record of her baptism, and her marriage license. I set them aside and suppressed a gasp of shock as I began to scan Angela’s birth certificate. She was right. Her recorded month of birth was October and the year listed would mean she was not twenty, but twenty-one. Before I could finish studying the document, she said in a hushed voice, “Read the letter.”

For a few seconds, I stared at her grief-stricken face, then put the birth certificate aside and unfolded the next sheet of paper.

MY DARLING AUDREY,

I CAN CALL YOU THAT AT LONG LAST, FOR YOU KNOW NOW THAT THIS IS YOUR GIVEN NAME. I WILL BE GONE WHEN YOU READ THIS AND I PRAY THAT ONE DAY YOU WILL BE ABLE TO FIND IT IN YOUR HEART TO FORGIVE ME. YOU WILL NEVER KNOW THE AGONY I HAVE SUFFERED WONDERING IF I MADE THE RIGHT DECISION TO RUN AWAY WITH YOU EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO, AND THAT EVERYTHING I HAVE DONE SINCE WAS TO PROTECT YOUR BEST INTERESTS.

I NEVER PLANNED TO TELL YOU ABOUT YOUR FATHER, GRADY MORGAN. HE WAS AN EVIL MAN AND I HAVE ALWAYS FELT THAT YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF NEVER KNOWING THAT HE EXISTED. BUT THINGS HAVE CHANGED NOW AND I MUST MAKE MY PEACE WITH GOD. BECAUSE OF THAT LONG-AGO DECISION, I HAVE NOTHING OF VALUE TO LEAVE YOU AND IT SEEMS WRONG TO DEPRIVE YOU OF YOUR RIGHTFUL INHERITANCE AND ALL THAT COMES WITH IT.

DR. MILES ORCUTT HAS BEEN A DEAR AND TRUSTED FRIEND. HE WILL GIVE YOU GOOD ADVICE. HE HAS ALWAYS KEPT HIS PROMISES TO ME AND HAS GIVEN ME HIS WORD THAT YOU WILL NOT BE CONTACTED UNTIL YOUR FATHER’S DEATH.       

IN CLOSING, IT IS MY FERVENT HOPE THAT YOU WILL UNDERSTAND THAT I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART, AND THAT MY SOLE PURPOSE WAS TO KEEP US BOTH FROM HARM’S WAY. THERE IS SO MUCH THAT MUST REMAIN UNSAID AND MY DYING WISH IS FOR YOU TO HAVE A HAPPY LIFE. BUT FOR YOUR OWN PEACE OF MIND, REMEMBER, MY DARLING, THAT THE SECRETS OF THE DEAD ARE BEST BURIED WITH THEM.       

It was signed your loving mother, RITA BARNES MORGAN, and dated a few months prior to her death.             A multitude of emotions churned inside me when I raised my head to meet Angela’s—or Audrey’s as I now must think of her––red-rimmed eyes in the bathroom mirror. I tried to fathom how she must feel at this moment. I couldn’t.

For lack of anything else, I said, “Do you want to go someplace and have a cup of coffee or something?”

“No,” she said shakily, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to be out in public again. I’ve already made a spectacle of myself once today.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, she presented a truly pathetic picture. But, even in her distraught state, I thought about what an arresting face she had—perfect rosebud-shaped lips, a small slightly upturned nose and the most striking set of eyes I’d ever seen. Cavernous, and chocolate brown in color, they were crowned with a magnificent set of dark, thick brows that presented a stark contrast to her ashen, yet flawless skin.

There seemed little I could say in the way of consolation so, operating entirely on instinct I slipped an arm around her shoulders. There were no appropriate words to cushion the devastating blow she’d just received, so I figured a dose of good old-fashioned comfort was about all I could furnish at the moment.

She managed a brief smile and leaned into me for an instant, eyes closed. I experienced a sudden rush of empathy, feeling as though somehow I’d stepped out of my reporter’s role and into that of guardian. “We can talk when you’re ready,” I offered gently. “Shall we go?”

She nodded, folded the papers into her purse and started towards the door. “I need to take my medicine,” she informed me as we stepped into the hallway.       

At the water fountain, I watched her fumble with pills and felt a sudden stab of guilt. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

She raised solemn eyes to me. “I have to now.”

“I’m curious about something,” I said to her as we headed outside to the car. “Why did your mother choose to have her affairs handled by a lawyer in Tucson instead of closer to home?”

She shrugged. “Mr. Hutton said he’d known my mother since high school and that she trusted him to keep her secret.”

“I’m wondering why Dr. Orcutt contacted you first. Was Mr. Hutton aware of your mother’s medical condition?”

Grimacing from the heat, she sank into the passenger seat and fumbled with the seat belt before answering. “He said he had written instructions from her not to release these papers to me until he’d received formal notice of my father’s death. Dr. Orcutt sent him a copy of the death certificate along with a note telling him that he planned to contact me.”

“I see. It seems your mother was very methodical,” I said, maneuvering the car into traffic. “She apparently thought of everything.”

Back on the main highway once more, Audrey sat huddled against the passenger door facing the window, her legs tucked beneath her. Her body language clearly conveyed her desire to be left alone, so I kept my own counsel, sensing that one single question directed at her now would only cause her to withdraw further. I sighed inwardly. This was going to be no easy assignment.             The information in the letter from her mother had piqued my curiosity to no end—especially the part about the secrets of the dead being buried with them. Talk about melodramatic. But, that statement combined with the other carefully veiled sentences reaffirmed my belief that this was going to be one hell of a story when we got to the bottom of all the whys and wherefores.

I set the cruise control at seventy-five and let my mind drift. For a time, I raced with a Southern Pacific freight train until it picked up speed and vanished into the spectacular panorama now unfolding before me––endless miles of Sonoran desert dotted with yucca and cholla and dressed out with stately stands of saguaro cactus stretching away into the distance to meld with majestic mountain ranges.

An hour later, feeling recharged with the sheer exhilaration of being on the open road, I swung off the freeway and headed south again. The two-lane highway began a gentle climb that gradually transformed the prickly landscape into golden grasslands blanketed with clumps of mesquite and greasewood.

Rounding the crest of a hill, I felt a mild twinge of uneasiness at the scene ahead. Thunderheads that only hours ago had been snowy plumes, were gathering into an ominous curtain of charcoal gray streaked periodically with jagged forks of lightning.

The clouds seemed to grow blacker with each passing moment and my nervousness increased. I slid a quick look at Audrey. Apparently asleep, her head lolled gently with the rocking motion of the car. No point in worrying her. She’d been through enough turmoil today.

Having personally been at the mercy of a violent summer storm not that long ago, I viewed them with equal parts of fascination and dismay. I switched on the radio, keeping the volume low, and roamed through the channels hoping to catch a weather report. It was obvious we were getting closer to the Mexican border because I had trouble finding a station where the announcer spoke something other than Spanish.

After a time, Audrey stirred, yawned, and said out-of-the-blue, “You’ve got the prettiest red hair I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, thank you.”

“I always wanted to wear mine long and curly like that, but Mom always cut it short.” She paused and I could feel her eyes on me. “I’ll bet you have a boyfriend, don’t you?”       

Okay, I thought. She wants to chitchat. Talk about something mundane and safe. Probably anything to avoid the painful topic that had to be tearing her up inside.

“Yep,” I answered with a wide smile. “Tally writes the sports section at the newspaper.”

“Tally? That’s a strange name.”

I laughed. “It’s a nickname. His name is really Bradley Talverson and he owns and operates the Starfire, which just happens to be one of the biggest cattle ranches in the state.”