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“I don’t warn guys away,” McCord said, but he suddenly became very interested in the trail ahead of them, a trail he had to have seen a thousand times before.
“I’m not as moldy as you think I am. Especially up here.” Matt tapped his forehead. “How many guys have you sent packing over the years? How many times did she wait for a phone call that didn’t come because you threatened to smash someone’s teeth in?”
The tightness of the man’s jaw told Matt the number was pretty damn high.
“Be a big boy,” Matt said. “Tell her the truth before she finds out from someone else. She doesn’t seem to like it when that happens.”
McCord’s head came up. “Don’t you dare—”
“I’m not going to tell her anything,” Matt said. “I’ll probably never see her again thanks to you.”
The sadness that flooded Matt after that statement surprised him just a little. Sure, he’d wanted her, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d liked her, how much he would miss her company after only knowing her for a short while.
They continued on toward where Isaac waited, hat tilted, face in shadow. Matt might not be able to see the old man’s expression but could easily tell from the way Isaac held himself that he wasn’t happy.
Matt glanced at his companion. “What was it about the photo that made Gina go white as a ghost?”
McCord flinched at the word ghost, which only piqued Matt’s interest and caused his busy brain to kick into high gear. “Is that area haunted?”
“What area?”
“The one in the picture?”
McCord smirked. “What picture?”
Matt narrowed his eyes. The man knew very well what picture. Of course, since Matt no longer had it and Gina had probably destroyed it …
Hell.
Still, McCord’s reluctance to talk about the place, his refusal to even acknowledge it, combined with his response to the word ghost … There was something there.
A battleground? A graveyard?
A superwarrior’s tomb?
People didn’t behave this strangely without something to hide. Of course McCord would swallow his own tongue before he told Matt what it was.
They reached the road, and Isaac got behind the wheel without a single word of greeting. He was equally chatty all the way to the ranch.
McCord revved the dirt bike’s motor, which was loud enough to be a Harley, and took off in the opposite direction. He’d travel as the crow flew and no doubt beat Isaac and Matt to their destination.
Sure enough, when the pickup pulled into the yard the man not only was waiting for them but had also already packed Matt’s things.
“Thanks for your patronage.” McCord threw the suitcase at Matt so hard, Matt staggered a step when he caught it. “Never come again.”
“My money?” Matt asked.
“What money?” McCord returned, already heading for the house.
That was the problem with cash. No proof of purchase.
Matt rummaged through the outside zipper pockets of his bag for the car keys. But a cry from the house had him glancing up just as Fanny banged through the screen door and handed a sheet of paper to her son. Matt was able to make out the name Benjamin Morris at the top.
Isaac joined his daughter and grandson on the porch, and they began to murmur among themselves. Matt caught one phrase—“sell the ranch at auction”—before McCord remembered him and snapped, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Matt’s gaze met Fanny’s, then Isaac’s. No help there. While they weren’t actively scowling as McCord was, they no longer looked at Matt with anything akin to welcome.
Matt nodded in lieu
