* * *
TORY PARKED THE pickup on the street in front of the feed store in Sinclair. So far the entire day had been a waste. Deputy Woodward hadn’t been able to ease her mind about the dead calf; in fact, if anything, the young man’s reaction to the news that Trask knew of the incident only added to Tory’s unease.
After Deputy Woodward had gone, Tory had attempted to do something, anything to keep her mind off Trask. But try as she might, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything other than Trask and his ridiculous idea—no, make that conviction—that another person was involved in the Quarter Horse swindle as well as his brother’s death.
He’s jumping at shadows, she told herself as she stepped out of the pickup and into the dusty street, but she couldn’t shake the image of Trask, his shoulders erect in controlled, but deadly determination as he had stood in her father’s den the night before. She had witnessed the outrage in his blue eyes. “He won’t let up on this until he has an answer,” she told herself with a frown.
She pushed her way into the feed store and made short work of ordering supplies for the Lazy W. The clerk, Alma Ray, had lived in Sinclair all her life and had worked at Rasmussen Feed for as long as Tory could remember. She was a woman in her middle to late fifties and wore her soft red hair piled on her head. She had always offered Tory a pleasant smile and thoughtful advice in the past, but this afternoon Alma’s brown eyes were cold, her smile forced.
“Don’t get paranoid,” Tory cautioned herself in a whisper as she stepped out of the feed store and onto the sidewalk. “It’s not as if this town is against you, for God’s sake. Alma’s just having a bad day—”
“Tory.”
At the sound of her name, Tory turned to face Neva McFadden, Jason’s widow. Neva was hurrying up the sidewalk in Tory’s direction and Tory’s heart sank. She saw the strain in Neva’s even features, the worry in her doe-brown eyes. Images of the courtroom and Neva’s proud face twisted in agony filled Tory’s mind.
“Do you have a minute?” Neva asked, clutching a bag of groceries to her chest.
It was the first time Neva McFadden had spoken to Tory since the trial.
“Sure,” Tory replied. She forced a smile, though the first traces of dread began to crawl up her spine. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Neva wanted to talk to her the day after Trask had returned to the Lazy W. “Why don’t we sit down?” She nodded in the direction of the local café, which was just across the street from the feed store.
“Great,” Neva said with a faltering smile.
Once they were seated in a booth and had been served identical glasses of iced tea, Tory decided to take the offensive. “So, what’s up?”
Neva stopped twirling the lemon in her glass. “I wanted to talk to you about Trask.”
“I thought so. What about him?”
“I know that he went to see you last night and I have a good idea of what it was about,” Neva stated. She hesitated slightly and frowned into her glass as if struggling with a weighty decision. “I don’t see any reason to beat around the bush, Tory. I know about the letter Trask received. He showed me a copy of it.”
“He showed it to me, too,” Tory admitted, hiding her surprise. She had assumed that Trask hadn’t spoken to anyone but her. It wouldn’t take long for the gossip to start all over again.
“And what do you think about it?” Neva asked.
Tory lifted her shoulders. “I honestly don’t know.”
Neva let out a sigh and ignored her untouched drink. “Well, I do. It was a prank,” Neva said firmly. “Just someone who wants to stir up the trouble all over again.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?”
“I wish I knew,” Neva admitted, shaking her head. The rays of the afternoon sun streamed through the window and reflected in the golden strands of her hair. Except for the lines of worry surrounding her eyes, Neva McFadden was an extremely attractive woman. “I wish to God I knew what was going on.”
“So do I.”
Neva’s fingers touched Tory’s forearm. She bit at her lower lip, as if the next words were awkward. “I know that you cared for Trask, Tory, and I know that you think he...”
“Used me?”
“Yes.”
“It was more than that, Neva,” Tory said, suddenly wanting this woman who had borne so much pain to understand. “Trask betrayed me and my family.”
Neva stiffened and she withdrew her hand. “By taking care of his own.”
“He lied, Neva.”
Neva shook her head. “That’s not the way it was. He just wanted justice for Jason’s death.”
“Justice or revenge?” Tory asked and could have kicked herself when she saw the anger flare in Neva’s eyes.
“Does it matter?”
Tory shrugged and frowned. “I suppose not. It was a horrible thing that happened to Jason and you. And...and I’m sorry for...everything...I know it’s been hard for you; harder than it’s been for me.” Her mouth suddenly dry, Tory took a long drink of the cold tea and still felt parched.
“It’s over,” Neva said. “Or it was until Trask came back with some wild ideas about another person being involved in Jason’s death.”
“So you think the letter was a prank.”
“Of course it was.”
“How can you be sure?”
Neva avoided Tory’s direct gaze. “It’s been five years, Tory. Five years without a husband or father to my son.”
All the feelings of remorse Tory had felt during the trial overcame her as she watched the young woman battle against tears. “Neva, I’m sorry if my family had any part in the pain you and Nicholas have felt.”
“Your father was involved with Linn Benton and George Henderson. I know you never believed that he was guilty, Tory, but the man didn’t even stand up for himself at the trial.”
Tory felt as if a knife, five years old and dull, had been thrust into her heart. “I don’t see any reason to talk about this, Neva. I’ve already apologized.” Tory pushed herself up from the table. “I think I should go.”
“Don’t! Sit down, Tory,” Neva pleaded. “Look, I didn’t mean to start trouble. God knows that’s the last thing I want. The reason I wanted to talk to you is because of Trask.”
Tory felt her heart begin to pound. She took a seat on the edge of the booth, her back stiff. “So you said.”
“Don’t get involved with him again, Tory. Don’t start believing that there was more to what happened than came out in the trial.”
“I know there was more,” Tory stated, feeling a need to defend her father.
“I don’t think so. And even if there was, what would be the point of dredging it all up again? It won’t bring Jason back to life, or your father. All it will do is bring the whole sordid scandal back into the public eye.”
Tory leaned back and studied the blond woman. There was more to what Neva was suggesting than the woman had admitted. Tory could feel it. “But what if the letter Trask received contains part of the truth? Don’t you want to find out?”
“No.” Neva shook her head vehemently.
“I don’t understand—”
“That’s because you don’t have a child, Tory. You don’t have a six-year-old son who needs all the protection I can give him. It’s bad enough that he doesn’t have