A Christmas commercial filled the television screen and Eva sighed. The McKinneys’ big party was coming up soon.
“What should I wear to the McKinneys’ Christmas party?” she asked, lifting her gaze to Howard again.
“Whatever you want,” he said without looking up.
Eva smiled. He was on automatic pilot. “I was thinking of getting something new.”
“That’s fine.”
“I saw a cute little number in Frederick’s of Hollywood the other day,” she said with feigned nonchalance.
Did she imagine it, or was there the slightest pause before he answered? “That’s nice.”
Eva moved her crocheting from her lap to the coffee table and hugged a throw pillow to her ample breasts. “Howard,” she said in a serious tone.
“Mmm?”
“I’m having an affair.” It was a credit to her acting ability that she delivered the line straight-faced.
His eyes never left the paper. “Uh-huh.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Is that all you have to say?”
Howard turned another page of his paper. “Lucky guy,” he said, deadpan.
“Oh, you!” Eva fumed.
His blue eyes alight with merriment, Howard looked up in time to catch the pillow that came flying through the air at him.
“I had you going there for a while, didn’t I?” he said with a chuckle.
She pretended to pout. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Come on, Evie, talk.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Tell me about the Frederick’s outfit.”
“You’re incorrigible!” she said, but she was doing her best to hide a smile.
“But you love me.”
She leveled an accusing look and pointed a finger at him. “And prideful.”
Howard winked at her. “But not boring.”
She tried to hold back a smile and failed. She shook her auburn curls, which were preserved from the ravages of time by Suzi over at the Curl Up and Dye beauty salon, who touched up Eva’s roots the third Tuesday of every month. “No one could ever accuse you of that.”
“Not even back in high school?”
Eva cocked her head to the side and pretended to consider the question. “Well…”
Howard pushed himself up from the chair and held out his hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go make some popcorn.”
“Honestly, Howard,” Eva said, as he drew her to her feet. “You’re so helpless. Just put the bag in the microwave, press the popcorn button and three minutes later it’s ready.”
Howard slid his arm around her shoulders. “I know, but I’ll miss you.”
Eva dimpled up at him. “What a sweet thing to say.”
“And besides,” he said, giving her a light squeeze, “I thought if I sweet-talked you a little you might make us up a batch of real hot chocolate instead of that packaged stuff.” Howard’s smile was angelic.
The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted their lighthearted banter. Howard bent and reached for the receiver, offering the caller a hearty “Hello.”
Eva saw his eyes close and the color drain from his face. An icy, unaccountable fear swept through her like a cold Panhandle wind.
“Of course,” she heard him say. “We’re on our way.” He hung up the receiver and met Eva’s worried eyes with a bleak gaze.
“What?” she cried softly.
“That was Maggie. Rick Farmer just shot Rio.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Maggie found herself pacing the waiting room of Crystal Creek’s small hospital, wiping periodically at the tears she couldn’t stop, praying incessantly and waiting for some word about Rio’s condition. Jeremy, his wife, Tess, and Elena, Rio’s housekeeper and friend, were all out in the hallway, wild with grief and coping with their sorrow and worry in their own way.
Dr. Purdy had called in Dr. Dekker, the new Indonesian doctor, who, having just put in a fair share of time in one of Austin’s busy emergency rooms during his residency, had more skill with gunshots than the country doctor did. There was a faction in town that was prejudiced against the young doctor, but Nate said Sonny Dekker was “sharp as a tack,” and the old doctor’s stamp of approval was all Maggie needed.
How could something like this have happened? she asked herself again. How could she have been holding Rio in her arms one minute and the next find him laid out on the living room floor with a gunshot wound?
She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to hold back a sob. Why had Rick done it?
He’d said he hadn’t.
But he was holding the gun, and he’d apologized over and over.
“Oh, Rio’“ she cried aloud.
“Are you all right?”
With tears running unchecked down her face, Maggie whirled. Jeremy stood in the doorway, red-eyed and disheveled. Funny. She’d never noticed before how much alike the two brothers looked. She felt another rush of tears and did her best to blink them away. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully.
Jeremy drew her into his arms. As Maggie clung to him for comfort, it occurred to her that he’d matured a lot in the past few months, growing into a strong, dependable man, just like his brother.
“Why, Jeremy?” she asked, choking on a sob. “Why would Rick hurt Rio after all he’s done to try and help?”
“They quarreled this afternoon.” Jeremy’s voice was heavy with finality.
Maggie drew back and looked at Jeremy with teardrenched eyes. “Quarreled? About what?”
“We were moving that pen full of broncs, and Babydoll got the horses riled up. Rick got thrown. He was pretty mad and tried to take it out on the dog.”
“Oh, no!”
“Rio wasn’t too happy,” Jeremy said.
Knowing how attached Rio was to the dog and how much he loved animals in general, Maggie figured Jeremy’s comment was an understatement.
“When I rode up to see what was going on, Rio was giving Rick a pretty good tongue-lashing. He took him home a little while later.”
Maggie should have been furious with Rick. She should be hating him for what he’d done. Instead, she was confused by his behavior.
“But would Rick shoot Rio because he chewed him out? That seems so…I don’t know…drastic. Like the punishment didn’t fit the crime.”
“In the environment Rick’s grown up in, I imagine that’s a way of life.”
“Probably,” Maggie conceded, but even with the picture so vivid in her mind of him standing there with the gun in hand, she still had difficulty reconciling the action. “It’s just hard for me to imagine Rick hurting the only person in town who was willing to give him a chance.”
Jeremy took her hands in a firm grip. “It’s a crying shame the way people make judgments about a person based on hearsay and heredity instead of taking the time to see what that person is really like.”
The gleam of sorrow in his eyes told Maggie that Jeremy was thinking