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“No. He’d start asking questions, demanding details, and I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever.” She swung on him. “Swear to me you won’t tell him, Uncle Culley.”
He hesitated, plainly not liking it. “If that’s the way you want it, I won’t tell him what happened.”
“Not a word. Not a single word. I have your promise on that?”
Culley nodded. “You have my promise.”
Relief shuddered through her. Cat ran a hand over the top of her hair, her fingers snagging in the plaits of her French braid. “How could I have been so stupid to leave those doors propped open? It was dumb. So very dumb.” She began to pace.
Watching her, Culley shifted his weight to the other foot. “Want me to put on some coffee?”
Cat glanced at the sink counter, remembering. “No. No, I don’t want any coffee.” She could still see him there. Smell him. Feel him. She bolted from the kitchen, unable to remain another second.
Culley followed her into the living room, watching as she moved about, all raw nervous energy, opening one box, looking in another, picking one up and setting it down two feet away, accomplishing nothing. It worried him.
“Maybe you should sit down, Cat.”
“I can’t.” She kept her back to him, head down. “What time is it?”
He pulled out his pocket watch and checked. “A little after th
ree.”
“Dad will be here with Quint soon. I should take a shower and get cleaned up before they get here.” Her hands moved over her body as if she was already washing it. “Will you stay, Uncle Culley?”
“Sure.”
“I mean, here in the house.” Her eyes clung to him in silent appeal.
“Sure, if that’s what you want. But Lath’s gonna know I’ll be hanging around. He won’t be coming back.”
“Just the same, I’ll feel better.” Cat moved toward the hallway.
Culley waited until he heard the shower running, then went to the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing the sheriff’s office. “I need to speak to Echohawk. Tell him it’s O’Rourke calling.…It’s personal. Just put him on the phone.…Yeah, Logan. There’s been some trouble. You better get home right away. Cat needs you.…I don’t have no time to explain. Just get here.”
He hung up, his mouth curving in satisfaction. Shifting his grip on the rifle, he walked back to the living room. From the bathroom came the sound of running water. Crossing to a front window, Culley leaned a shoulder against the casing and watched for Echohawk.
O’Rourke was on the front porch waiting for him when Logan pulled into the ranch yard. One look at the rifle cradled loosely in O’Rourke’s arms had Logan piling out of the patrol car, his glance ransacking the entire area.
In three strides, he was, at the steps, demanding, “What happened here? Where’s Quint?”
“He’s okay. He’s with Calder. They’ll be here in another thirty minutes or so with the kid’s horse.” He jerked his head toward the house. “Cat’s inside. She’s the one who needs you.”
“Is she hurt?”
O’Rourke shook his head. “Scared.”
“Why? What happened?”
His expression took on a closed look. “I gave her my word I wouldn’t tell you. You’ll have to ask her.”
Logan’s mind raced over the myriad of possibilities. But experience had taught him not to jump to any conclusions. It was better to let the facts speak for themselves. He also knew he was going to have trouble with objectivity on this one.
“Where is she?” he snapped the question at O’Rourke, simultaneously pulling open the screen door and reaching for the knob.
“Probably in the bedroom. She just got out of the shower a couple minutes ago.”
That was an image Logan didn’t need.
