“Why’d you give those people permission to dig here?” Damian’s voice disturbed the quiet around him.
“It’s what Anna wanted. Her dad’s always been nice enough.” Julian shrugged.
“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have anyone on my property.”
“Well, it’s not up to you. You didn’t want anything to do with the ranch, remember? Besides, Anna was Mary’s best friend.” He’d never been bold enough to speak his mind like that with Damian before, but it felt good. Besides, he’d thoughtabout it. The hired hands ran the ranch with precision, and he didn’t want anything to do with that work. That had been his father’s domain. So he’d let them handle it. His meeting with the foreman had gone well enough. He offered all the men raises to stay on. They agreed.
It would be stupid to not use the wealth that was here. As long as he didn’t have to deal with anything but his garden, he’d keep the ranch running. Besides, a steady stream of income from the ranch profits could keep him from having to work for anyone else the rest of his life. Which was a good thing. He wouldn’t need to be around other people.
His gaze went to the area where he’d buried his father. The man had done nothing but yell at him, beat him, and tell him how awful he was his whole life. One of the reasons his mother insisted they avoid town. Because that would give fodder for gossip.
As it was, people in Walker Creek called him odd. That wasn’t news to him.
Odd. It was more than that. Something was wrong with him. Mother had understood it and done her best to steer him away from the darkness. She was everything good and precious, decent and loving. Had she stayed—or rather had she not been murdered by his father—she could have fixed him.
“Mary again, huh?” Damian’s opinion of her was clear in the mocking tone of his voice. “I know you had high hopes that she was like Mother. That she would take her place and find a way to help you. But she did nothing but betray you.”
“Hugging Evan wasn’t a betrayal.”
“Oh, yes, it was. She was comforting him when she should have been comfortingyou.”
“Evan’s dad had just died.”
Damian spat at the ground. “Good riddance. Fathers are horrible.”
The bitterness in his brother’s voice stabbed Julian in thechest. More than anything he wanted to ask if Damian had anything to do with Mary’s disappearance, but he bit his tongue and stayed silent. The memory of that day washed over him.
Mary had asked to see his garden after school. Something she did often. But after seeing her hug Evan, it had been a balm to his heart to gain her attention again. He adored Mary. Even if she had hurt him.
Then she went missing after her visit with him. The question to his brother lingered on his tongue, but he bit it back, afraid of the answer.
With a shake of his head, Julian pulled himself from the memory and went back to digging and mixing the dirt.
Damian walked toward the trees.
Julian turned his attention back toward the trench. Were his brother’s concerns valid? What would it be like to have the Lakemans on his property? He’d informed Scottie, and the man had shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him. The cattle had thousands of acres to roam and typically stayed closer to the creek and river. If they came to the washout, the hands would simply have to herd them back.
It wasn’t a bad idea to let the Lakemans dig for the fossils, was it? Didn’t seem like it would hurt anything and might give him a better reputation in town. Now that his father was gone, people could stop feeling sorry for him.
Anna had been so nice to him. Just like Mary. And Mother.
She touched him twice yesterday. Never yanked back in fear or disgust. Maybe he could try to talk to her more often....
Anna was pretty. And smart, too. If she came every day, he could get to know her. He could grow a beautiful garden in peace and learn how to be a normal person.
No one would ever beat him again. Or tell him it was his fault that everything had gone wrong.
And no one had to know about the bodies in the garden.
The air practically sizzled with excitement.
Anna rushed around and fetched tools, maps, and boxes of unused brushes in various sizes. The number of brushes they went through on digs was astounding. Chisels and hammers were plentiful as well, but Dad always kept extras of all the tools. Just in case.
“My dear?”
Her father’s voice, calling from his study.
“Coming.” She wiped her brow and scurried back in his direction. “What can I help wi—?” She almost ran right into him where he sat on the floor, surrounded by research and tools.
