Nell was furious with Travis, but she didn’t know why. That morning, as she’d ridden across her property, checking the fence line, she’d thought about him. And she’d thought about Bitter End.
Just when she was beginning to like Travis, really like him, she’d discovered that he had an ulterior motive. He’d made friends with her children, kissed and flattered her, pampered Ruth. All this because he wanted her to take him to Bitter End.
He’d been open enough about telling her he was a writer. Now everything was beginning to fall neatly into place. His job was what had brought him to Promise, probably with all expenses paid by his publisher. She should have suspected he had an ulterior motive for befriending her and her family. He was planning to write about Bitter End—although she didn’t really know why. He’d told her he was working on a book. What kind of book? she wondered, and what, exactly, did he hope to achieve?
What really infuriated Nell was his comment about Bitter End being a historical site. He seemed to be implying that Texans were a bunch of hicks who didn’t appreciate their own history. Well, that was the furthest thing from the truth! She knew as much about this state’s history as anyone around here. In fact, she thought grimly, maybe she respected history more than that...that Easterner. That wannabe cowboy. Because at least she recognized that the past still had power over the present—the way Bitter End had power over Promise.
Everything she’d ever heard about the town had been negative. Her family’s roots went back to the original settlement, which had been founded shortly after the Civil War; so did Jake’s. Something ugly had happened there, something horrible. Whatever it was, it’d been disturbing enough to cause everyone to vacate the town. No one knew why, and for years and years the town was rarely mentioned. When people did discuss Bitter End, they spoke in hushed whispers. Now some ignorant Yankee wanted to turn it into a historical site!
When Richard Weston was fleeing the authorities, he’d holed up in the town, and that made sense. He belonged there, if anyone did. Richard had figured out where the town was partly because of Savannah. Despite Grady’s objections, she’d explored the countryside to find Bitter End in her quest for lost roses.
Nell had asked Savannah about it, and she’d watched a shiver move down the other woman’s arms as she recounted her visit. Savannah had mentioned an impressive find in the cemetery—Nell had forgotten what the roses were called. Savannah had gone on to describe the eerie feeling that had come over her; she’d hurriedly taken the rosebush and left.
Later, convinced she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her, Savannah had returned, hoping to rescue other roses. She’d told Nell the most astonishing fact. Nothing grew inside the town. Not even a weed. The town was completely without life.
Yet all Travis saw was a money-making opportunity. He’d come to Promise to dig up information about a place best forgotten. Despite everything she’d said, everything Grady had told him, he’d insisted he was going to find Bitter End. Then he’d write about it and attract more people, strangers, to the town. Soon tourists would pour into Promise and their lives would no longer be their own. No one here knew why the settlers had abandoned Bitter End—and Nell thought it was better to leave things that way, to let whatever secrets were buried there lie forgotten. She wasn’t the only one to feel this way.
She wished now that Travis had chosen to move into town, to the bed and breakfast. Phil and Mary would know better how to handle his curiosity.
Nell closed her eyes and groaned at the memory of how pleased she’d been when he decided to stay on at the ranch. She felt lost and inadequate; worse, she felt foolish for having allowed this man to weave his way into her life.
She understood now that he had his own reasons for kissing her, for encouraging her kids, for staying at her ranch.
Reasons that had nothing to do with her.
* * *
Savannah had just placed Laura in her crib when someone knocked on the back door.
“Anyone home?” Unexpectedly her brother stepped into the kitchen.
“Grady, come in.” Savannah didn’t bother to hide her surprise. It was unusual for him to drop by the house on his own. Her home was only a short distance from the ranch house, and while Grady visited often, it was almost always with Caroline and Maggie.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Wonderful.” The birth had been the most incredible experience of her life. Savannah had known there’d be pain and had prepared as best she could for labor. What she hadn’t known was how she’d feel afterward—that sensation of stunned joy and amazement, that surge of accomplishment and pride.
In her arms she’d held living proof of her love for Laredo. Together they had created this new life, this beautiful child.
“I was just about to have a cup of tea,” Savannah said, crossing to the stove. “Would you care to join me?”
Grady removed his hat and set it on the oak table. “Sure.”
He’d get around to explaining his visit in his own time. Savannah could see no need to rush him.
She filled two cups and carried them to the kitchen table, then sat across from him. He asked her a few questions about the baby, but she noticed that he wasn’t really paying attention to her responses. He was thinking, weighing his next words, wondering if he should approach her about whatever he’d really come about. After living with Grady all those years, Savannah knew him well, better than he realized.
“Nell’s guest called me,” he said casually as he stirred a second spoonful of sugar into his tea.
Nell’s guest! That was the reason for this visit. The sugar had given him away. Grady seldom added sugar to anything, and two teaspoons was particularly telling.
“I don’t believe I’ve met him,” she said.
“His name’s Travis Grant. Seems nice enough—Caroline and I met him at the rodeo.”
“Oh?”
“Like I said, he phoned yesterday.”
“Really?” She remained calm, unaffected.
“He knows Richard.”
The words hit her without warning and Savannah stared at her brother. A sinking sensation came over her, and a deep sadness. Her younger brother had been sentenced to twenty-five years in prison without parole. It hurt to think of Richard locked behind bars. She’d written him twice, once shortly after he’d been taken back to New York to stand trial and then after he’d received his sentence. He hadn’t answered either letter.
“Actually it was Grant’s ex-wife who introduced him to Richard,” Grady added. “Apparently she was the court-appointed attorney who defended him.”
“Did this Travis Grant tell you what he wanted?” It went without saying that if Richard was involved, their brother was looking out for his own selfish interests.
Savannah often wondered what had turned Richard into a man who acted without conscience or compassion. Her heart ached every time she thought about him. Why? She would never understand why he’d used his family, why he’d betrayed good people, why he’d exploited the vulnerable.
Twice he’d stolen from her and Grady. The first time had been the day they’d buried their parents. While Grady and Savannah stood beside the grave, Richard was sneaking away with the forty thousand dollars in cash left them by their father. Six years later he’d returned with a hard-luck story, needing a place to stay.
Savannah blamed herself for what happened next, since she’d been the one who convinced Grady to let him stay. But Grady wouldn’t let her accept the blame. He insisted they were equally at fault because he’d known what kind of man Richard was and had closed his eyes to the obvious. Both of them felt an obligation to family, and they both wanted to believe their brother had changed.