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Mason and Bliss danced past, she in white silk and lace, he in a black tuxedo. He twirled her off her feet, and she laughed gaily, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, as if she were completely and truly in love.
The thought sat like lead in Luke’s stomach, and he snagged another glass of champagne from a tray near a fountain that spouted gallons of the stuff. Hearing Katie’s laughter rising above the buzz of conversation, clink of glasses and notes from a dance band, he sauntered outside to a veranda where there was a little respite from the heat.
Several people had gathered on the flagstones, talking and smoking, holding drinks or resting their hips against the stone railing and looking over the creek that splashed behind the hotel.
Two women strolled onto the patio and stood far enough away that he only caught snatches of their conversation.
“Can’t imagine what happened to him,” one of the women was saying. She was short and round, with hair starting to turn silver and long, well-kept fingernails that rummaged through the contents of her purse.
“So you don’t believe the letter is real?” her companion, a wasp-thin woman with harsh features and more makeup than she needed, asked.
“The letter that was printed in the paper? Naw.” She found a pack of cigarettes and shook one out. “If you ask me, Lois, Isaac Wells is gone for good.”
At that point Mason strode onto the patio and, spying Luke, offered a smile.
“Aren’t you supposed to be cuttin’ the cake, or toasting the bride or somethin’?” Luke asked as they clasped hands.
“Needed a break.” Mason tugged at his collar, and Luke noticed the sweat sliding down his neck.
“I hear Bliss has designed a new house for you. That you’re going to open up a dude ranch at the old Sorenson place.”
“That’s the plan.” Luke sipped his drink. He wasn’t much good at small talk but felt comfortable with Lafferty; there was something about him that seemed sincere. Beneath the expensive tux was a real, solid man, a fellow rancher who felt a kinship with the earth. The kind of man Luke trusted.
“I’d like you to show me around sometime when work gets under way.”
“Come on out, anytime,” Luke offered, then asked a question he’d been tossing about all day. “I heard you were related to Isaac Wells.”
“Yep.”
“What do you think happened to him?”
“Wish I knew.” Mason rubbed his chin. “I’m afraid it might become one of those unsolved cases around here, just like the Octavia Nesbitt thing a few years back.”
“Nesbitt?” Luke asked. The name was familiar.
“Tiffany’s grandmother. Years ago she was robbed—her jewelry taken from her house, even her damned cat stolen. The case was never solved and made everyone nervous. Leastwise, that’s what Bliss and her father tell me.”
“But no one was hurt?” Luke asked.
“Nope. This is different that way.” Mason’s eyebrows drew together. “Can’t help but wonder whether old Isaac is dead or alive.”
“There you are!” Bliss, breathless, caught up with her new husband. “Hiding?” Her blue eyes sparkled with a teasing light.
“From you?” he asked. “Always.”
“Such a charmer.” She clucked her tongue, and to the delight of the two women on the far end of the patio, Mason swooped her into his arms and kissed her as if he’d never stop. One woman fanned her face, the other turned away, hiding a smile. Luke grinned. He felt the passion between the just-married couple, knew what it was like to want a woman so badly he ached.
When Mason finally lifted his head, Bliss appeared breathless. “Well,” she finally said, her cheeks flushed to a rosy hue, “I’d love to steal away to the bushes with you right now, Mr. Lafferty, but we have duties to attend to.”
“Too bad,” Mason drawled.
Bliss touched him lightly on the nose. “If you’re lucky, I’ll give you a rain check.”
“I’m gonna hold you to it, Mrs. Lafferty.”
They linked fingers, and she pulled him back into the interior of the old hotel.
Luke finished his drink, then stared through the windows and spied Katie dancing. She was grinning and looking as if she were having the time of her life. He wondered what kind of trouble she was getting herself into. First the letter—be it a hoax or the real thing—then the phone calls to her house where no one answered. They could just have been someone dialing the wrong number, but he couldn’t shove them out of his head.
