Page 70 of If the Boot Fits

Sheriff Jeter ran a hand through brown hair that was starting to gray and blew out a heavy breath. “I hate to admit it, but this whole situation has me stumped. Thompson was our only viable suspect, and after we cleared him, I haven’t had much to go on. I’ve questioned your father’s business associates to see if anyone’s holding a grudge big enough to want to hurt him through you, but I gotta say, this don’t feel like it’s aimed at your old man. Whoever is targeting you must have something to gain by it. If we can narrow down his motive, we’ll have a better chance of catchin’ him.”

He shifted his stance and pinned her with a penetrating look. “In my experience, there are three motives strong enough to push someone into purposely taking a life—revenge, jealousy, and money. Now, I been askin’ around about you, Miss Dearing, and far as I can tell, no one in town’s got a big enough ax to grind to want you dead. So unless you provoked someone back in Boston bad enough for him to follow you all the way to Texas . . .” He let the implied question hang in the air.

Samantha shook her head. “No. Nothing like that happened in Boston.”

“All right. Then we can eliminate revenge.” He turned that unsettling stare of his on Asher. “What about jealousy? Any obsessive women in your circle? One who might feel threatened by Miss Dearing and want to get her out of the picture?” He looked Asher up and down. “Can’t say as you’re any particular prize, but women get odd notions about things like that.”

An embarrassed chuckle rumbled from Asher’s chest. “Until a few weeks ago, I lived on a ranch with a bunch of cowpokes. The only woman in my life other than Miss Dearing is my mother, and she adores Samantha. I think it’s safe to rule out jealous women.”

The sheriff grunted. “Didn’t think that option held much water, but I needed to ask. That leaves money.” He turned those needle-sharp eyes back on Samantha. “You’re a wealthy young woman. You stand to inherit half of your daddy’s ranchin’ empire. Think carefully now. Is there anyone who would benefit from you being gone? Someone in line to inherit your share of the Three Cedars, perhaps?”

Samantha shook her head. “No. There’s no one. If I were to die, everything would go to my bro—”

Clarity struck like a lightning bolt. Her hand dropped to her pocket. Felt for her mother’s journal.

“What is it?” Her aunt’s confused expression begged for answers, but there wasn’t time.

Samantha turned to Asher. “We have to go back to the ranch. Now. Before the hands get up and start their work.”

Asher nodded, not asking any of the questions flashing in his eyes. Sheriff Jeter, on the other hand, continued to prod.

“Who is it, girl? Who stands to gain?”

How could she make him understand without dragging her mother’s name through the mud?

“I don’t know. Not yet. But I think there’s a way to figure it out. I just need to get back to the ranch.”

The sheriff glanced at the hint of light trimming the horizon and scowled. “Guess we better get goin’, then.”

32

Asher shortened the stirrups on his saddle to the length he knew Samantha preferred, then patted Bruno’s neck in apology for making him work so early in the morning. The paint simply tossed his head and searched Asher’s hand for another carrot.

“It’s a good thing you’re so easy to bribe.” Asher reached into his pocket and pulled out a second carrot, happy to reward the horse for his faithfulness. “I expect you to take good care of our lady today. No actin’ squirrelly just ’cause it’s dark, all right?” Bruno lowered his head as if in understanding. Asher rubbed his forelock. “I knew I could count on you.”

Which was why he’d offered to ride one of the sheriff’s spare mounts instead of keeping Bruno for himself. Samantha was still new to riding, and he didn’t trust her on a horse he didn’t know.

The sound of his mother’s back door closing drew his attention. Samantha stepped off the porch and walked toward the lean-to.

Asher moved away from Bruno and met her halfway. “Hey,” he said as he reached for her hand. “How’re you holding up?”

She’d washed the soot from her face and hands and borrowed one of his mother’s dresses, but she still looked as tuckered out as a cowhand after a week’s worth of night duty. If it wasn’t for the spark of determination in her eyes, he’d steer her right back to the house and insist she get some sleep. But he knew better than to try. The set of her chin warned that she’d walk to the Three Cedars if she had to.

Samantha laced her fingers through his and tugged him close to her side as they walked back to where Bruno waited. Once there, she pivoted to face him. “I have to tell you something before Sheriff Jeter gets here. In confidence.” Her eyes searched his. “My father and brother can’t know, not unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

He’d never seen her this tense. Squeezing her hand, he dipped his chin in agreement. “You have my word, Samantha. I won’t tell a soul.”

Some of the weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, and Asher was glad to receive it onto his. Whatever she needed, he’d do.

“The reason I wasn’t in my room when the fire started was because I was reading my mother’s journal. Aunt Regina gave it to me yesterday. She never read it herself, so not even she knows what I’m about to tell you.”

“All right.”

Samantha looked slightly ill, so Asher grabbed the milking stool standing a few feet behind him in the lean-to. “Here. Sit down.” He helped her onto the stool, then crouched beside her and nodded for her to continue.

She placed her hands in her lap and crushed the folds of her skirt in her fisted palms. “My parents had a hard time having children,” she said in a small voice. “It took them five years to have me, and when five more years passed without a child, my mother . . . she . . . turned to another man.”

Asher did his best to mask his shock, hoping the flickering shadows of the lantern light would disguise his thoughts. But something must have shown on his face. Either that or she guessed his reaction, for she hurried to explain.