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He didn’t like the way Holden was studying him almost as if he thought he and Pickett were up to something. “Want me to saddle your horse?”
“I’m still quite capable of saddling my own horse.”
Duffy raised both hands in surrender.
“Sorry,” his father apologized. “I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“Pickett and I rode fence this morning. Found a couple of strays we got back in.” Fortunately, the ranch hand had been his old self today. Duffy hadn’t brought up last night and neither had his friend. He told himself that he’d imagined whatever it was he thought he sensed between his friend and Oakley. “I need to go into town to get more wire. Not sure what keeps tearing up that stretch of fence near the river.”
“I know you’re working,” Holden said. “I didn’t mean to insinuate differently.” He shook his head. “Have you seen Treyton?”
“No.” But Duffy had been hearing rumors about him. His older brother was heading for trouble. Nothing new there.
His father nodded distractedly, clearly having more on his mind than Treyton as he told him he would see him later and headed for the stables.
Duffy was tempted to saddle up and follow his father. He was worried about where Holden was headed. He knew how important purchasing the Montana 360 Ranch was to their family. He also knew Charlotte Stafford would be doing everything in her power to outbid him—if not cheat—to get the land. This war between the two had been going on long before Duffy was born. He wished now more than ever, though, that it would end. If he was interested in Oakley, he didn’t want to go through what Cooper was going through. He couldn’t imagine what it would take for the families to bury their axes and put the past behind them.
After his father rode off in the direction of the Stafford Ranch, he knew it would be a mistake to follow him. Treyton treated Holden as if he was old and going senile. Duffy knew better. Just offering to saddle his father’s horse had made him bristle. Following him—especially in the direction he’d gone—would be more than an insult.
Still, he wondered what business his father might have with Charlotte Stafford—the woman Duffy suspected Holden still loved in spite of everything.
ABIGAILTAPPEDATthe Turner’s door. She’d worn her hospital scrubs. She’d prepared a story. The question was why do this? She didn’t like Charlotte Stafford. She didn’t like most of the people she’d met here. She was already taking so many chances, why do this?
The door opened. The man blocking the entry was tall, slim, with a scowl on his face. He’d opened his mouth as if already knowing what he planned to say. But his lips clamped, locking the words inside as he saw her and her attire.
She smiled and started to speak, but he beat her to it.
“You’re late.”
That was not what she was expecting.
“Come on, my mother is in pain.” He turned then and headed back through the ranch house. Abigail followed, debating when to tell him that she wasn’t the hospice nurse he’d been expecting.
She decided to ride it out and see what happened. He was the one who had it all wrong. She was a nurse whose job it was to help people. If she could relieve Inez Turner of her pain, then she was just doing her job.
The moment she saw the elderly frail woman in the bed, she turned to him. “I can take it from here.”
He seemed to hesitate but only for a moment before he turned and walked out. She closed the door behind him and rounded to face the woman. Inez might be dying but she was still very alert. Her dark eyes latched on to Abigail with suspicion as the nurse advanced on her.
“I don’t know you,” the elderly woman said.
“No, you don’t, but I know you.” She moved to the side table and the drugs lined up there. “Let’s have a little chat as I get you something to relieve your pain.”
DUFFYMCKENNAHADcome into town for supplies, but decided to have an early lunch while he was there. He’d barely sat down when he saw the man enter the café and head to his table. He had the feeling that the man had been following him—and maybe not just into the café.
“Duffy McKenna, right?” the man said as he pulled out a chair without being invited. “I’m Jason Murdock. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” The waitress came up to the table and cocked a hip, grinning at Duffy. She was a pretty blonde whom he’d gone to school with but had never dated.
“Let me guess. The usual, right, Duffy?” Penny asked and chuckled as he nodded, then turned to the man.
“Just coffee. Black. Thanks.” He took off his Stetson and put it on an empty chair as if planning to stay for a while.
As Penny left, Duffy said, “I don’t know who you are but—”
“I’m a private investigator. I would appreciate it if you allow me to take a few minutes of your time to talk to me,” the PI said. “I’ve been hired to look into the disappearance of Dixon Malone. He’s still married to Charlotte Staf—”
“I know who he was, but I know nothing about his disappearance. That was years ago, almost before my time.”
Murdock smiled. “But not your father’s. I understand he and Charlotte Stafford were close years ago.”
