Coming Home to Texas (12 page)

“Really?”

Another young knitter born into the craft. Ellie's heart lifted a little bit more. “Absolutely, kiddo. You know, some of the hair and down in those clouds probably belongs to Russet.” Gunner had let Audie pick the name for Daisy's calf all those months ago, before he and Brooke even started dating. Though Gunner had secretly feared Audie would come up with something absurdly girlie like Rainbow Sparkle, she'd risen to the occasion. “You gave Russet his name. Now he can give yarn back to you.”

Audie grinned. “I like that.”

“Me, too. Come on. Let's go on back to the big house and get started.”

Ellie got up to leave, but then turned back. Looking at the photo of Gran and Grandad—so serious, yet she knew them to be so happy. She scooped up the photo to take back to her room, deciding to put it on her dresser as a reminder.
I come from a family of love. Love will find me again even though I
'
m frowning now. Right, Lord? Help me remember that.

They sat on the ranch-house porch as Ellie showed Audie the simple techniques in drop spinning. Stretch out the fibers with two fingers, spin the spindle, let the fibers twist around to become yarn—it really was easy enough for someone Audie's age, and she took to it as if she'd been doing it all her life.

“At this rate, you'll have enough to knit booties for your new little brother by the time he's born.”

“You're a good teacher, Aunt Ellie. This is fun.”

Audie's enthusiasm was nothing short of a gift. Any lingering doubts Ellie had about success with the after-school class fell away in the sparks of excitement in Audie's eyes. This was part of Ellie's talent. Nothing gave her a charge of energy like introducing someone to the joy of knitting. Watching Audie stare intently as she twisted the fuzzy roving through her fingers and let the weight of the spindle stretch the twists out into strands, Ellie saw the same zing of creativity capture her niece that had once captured her. It hadn't been a mistake to run home to the ranch. This truly was the best medicine for her heartache, and God had laid the opportunity before her as the balm she needed.

“Are you gonna teach those girls how to do this?” Audie asked.

“Maybe. And I'll be thrilled if they take to it as well as you have. I've started them off on knitting with store-bought cotton yarn, but once the mill has processed all the down and hairs they gathered off the brushes, each girl will get back her very own hank of Blue Thorn bison yarn.”

“But I'd rather make it into yarn myself like this. Do I really have time to make something for our new baby?”

Audie's eyes were so sweet and eager. “Yes, but if you want it done by the time he's born, it should be something very small like booties or mitts.” Ellie couldn't help but add, “Your baby brother is going to be very blessed to have a big sister like you.” She helped Audie graft the next bit of fiber into the strand she was spinning, pleased at the way her niece was picking up speed. “Have your mom and Gunnerdad picked out a name for your brother yet?”

Audie laughed as if this were a ridiculous question. “Of course they have.”

Ellie applied an exaggerated pout. “Well, nobody's told me.” She had a good guess, of course, but it felt amusing to give Audie the chance to proclaim the news.

“They shouldn't have to. Everybody knows his name's gonna be Gunner Buckton III. Gunnerdad says we're gonna call him Trey for short. I like that nickname. Baby Trey. Don't you like it?”

Ellie felt the idea of a fourth generation of Bucktons on the ranch settle warm and glowing around her. “I like it very much. I like it so much I think Trey should have booties
and
mitts. I'll help you with the spinning so you have enough yarn, okay? We're family. We should help each other out.”

Audie grinned. “Then can I make something for Gran? She's always making stuff for me.”

The girl had such a sweet heart. It was easy to see how she'd charmed her way into Gunner's life and softened him the way she had. “I know Gran would just love that. It's always a good idea to make things for the people who love you.”

“Are you always making something for someone who loves you?” Audie's eyes popped wide with dismay when she realized that might not have been a good question. Still, she loved the girl's constant curiosity.

Ellie sighed, thinking about the unwound shawl for Katie sitting awaiting its transformation in a corner of her room. “I was. I had a very pretty shawl in the works that my best friend was going to wear in my wedding.” The words stung, but she didn't choke on them the way she'd expected.

Audie continued her spinning as she talked. “But you're not anymore?”

How to explain this very adult situation to a child? “Well, we're not best friends anymore. I'm really sad about that, too.”

“That's sad. My best friend and I had a fight last month, and it was all I could think about.”

That
'
s about the way it goes
, Ellie thought. “Sure is.”

“What about Mr. Derek? Did you knit things for him?”

Ellie sat back in her chair. “Now, there's a funny thing about that. Some knitters say knitting something for your boyfriend—a sweater most especially—will doom the relationship. A silly superstition, you know. Even so, I never did knit anything for Mr. Derek—and look what happened. Just goes to show you that paying attention to silly superstitions is...well...silly.”

Audie leaned against Ellie while she kept spinning. “Boys can be dumb. Derek must be dumb, 'cause I think you're the nicest person ever.”

The pint-size declaration of loyalty set a glow in Ellie's chest that was worth a dozen perfectly knitted shawls. “Thanks, kiddo. I feel the same way about you.”

Chapter Twelve

N
ash pushed the button on the Blue Thorn Ranch gate. He'd been called to come over Sunday morning even before he could get to the church service in town. “It's Nash Larson from the sheriff's office. I came as quickly as I could.”

Adele Buckton's voice crackled over the speaker. “Oh, Deputy Larson, I'm glad you could get here so fast. Everyone else is out by the barn, so go straight there. I can't believe someone would do this to one of our animals. I'm just sick about it.”

“We'll get to the bottom of it, Mrs. Buckton. You have my word.” Nash pulled the cruiser onto the ranch road before the gate was even fully opened. Nash was “on call” this morning, and the call from Gunner had come in not fifteen minutes ago. One of the ranch's bison had been found shot dead out on the far west side of the ranch. Things had officially moved up a notch from foolish nuisance to deliberate crime. While it felt like a nasty thing to hope for, Nash's job would be easier if the bullet was still lodged in the animal. If the ballistics matched what he and Gunner had found earlier, they'd have a better chance of catching whoever did this before he did any more harm to himself or the Bucktons' herd.

Billy Flatrock, the ranch foreman, met him outside the barn. “The carcass is in the back of a trailer out behind the barn. I'm trying to keep this away from little Audie. Brooke took her to church so she wouldn't see. If this creep had shot Russet, I don't know what Audie would do.”

“Russet?” The Blue Thorn raised bison for meat as well as for conservation of the species. Surely they didn't go around naming the animals like pets, did they?

“Audie has a particular connection with one of last year's calves. It happens. Gunner's rather partial to Russet's mother, too. I wouldn't want any of the Blue Thorn herd to be hurt, but most especially that family.”

Nash couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the use of the word
family
. Flatrock caught his expression as they walked around the barn. “We preserve family groupings here, Deputy Larson. We honor the animals, even when we harvest them.” The foreman stopped walking and looked Nash straight in the eye. “I take this shooting personally—very personally. Gunner even more so. We need this stopped.”

“I agree. Have you called the vet? I'd want his opinion and his help retrieving any evidence that may still be in the carcass.”

“I'm surprised he didn't beat you here. He should be along any minute.”

Nash and Billy Flatrock turned the corner to see the large animal lying in the bed of an equipment trailer, the bloody wounds in its chest and shoulder exposed and drawing flies. His gut tightened at the injustice of it—taking down livestock for sport or spite wasn't just illegal, it was wrong and mean. If this was a kid, it was a kid heading fast in a bad direction.

Gunner walked up behind him, pocketing his cell phone. “A fine animal. She would have brought a high price next year. No sign of illness or anything else that might have separated her from the herd.”

Nash pulled on a pair of latex gloves and walked closer. Even as a calf, the animal was huge. “Are you thinking whoever did this fired right into the herd?”

“I don't want to think anyone would be that foolish, risking a stampede, but yes, that's probably what happened. She wouldn't have been one of the slower ones, but she might have been on the edge of the herd. Larson, I don't like this one bit. There's more going on here than the loss of one animal.”

Nash lowered his voice. “I agree we should look at this as an attack. Any idea if it's against you personally or the ranch?”

Gunner's eyes were as serious as his tone when he answered, “I have no idea.”

He hated to ask this, but Nash felt as though he had no choice. “Do you think whoever is doing this might step things up? Threaten you or the family?” It was a terrible thought to put in an expectant father's head, but unpleasant warnings were part of the job.

“I pray not. And I've had no reason to think so up until now.” Gunner looked at the beast slumped in a brown furry mass in the trailer. “But this feels like a deliberate killing.”

Nash shifted his weight as he turned to face the rolling pastures. “I have to say I agree. Can you shift the animals indoors?”

Gunner gave a dark “you don't come from around here, do you?” laugh and shook his head. “These are bison, man, not sheep. They're out in the open no matter what. Maybe we can pray for rain to keep whoever's shooting indoors, but aside from that, I don't know.” The rancher stared hard at Nash. “You and Don need to find this guy, and fast.”

Well, you told God you were bored
, Nash chided himself as the pressure of the case settled hard on his shoulders.
Now you
'
ve got kids to teach and bison to save. A nice, full schedule.
He turned to see Ellie coming out of the big house. She walked toward Gunner, Billy and Nash as they stood huddled around the trailer and carcass.

“Gunner,” she said as she grabbed her brother's hand. “How is this happening?” She looked up at Nash. “Hi, Nash. I can't believe this.”

For the first time, Nash truly noticed how much alike Gunner and Ellie looked. Sure, the striking eyes were what everyone noticed, but the hair and the set of cheekbones declared them family. Being an only child himself, siblings held a fascination for him. To be part of a family of four children felt as foreign as the
y
'
alls
and
howdys
that filled his ears in Martins Gap. Ellie had mentioned two more siblings. Would the threat to the ranch bring those two home? Or could there be bad blood between estranged siblings that might lead to something like this? While he needed to consider every possibility, Nash's instincts still told him this was a prank orchestrated by some teens who had gone wrong. Buckton had every right to be concerned—this killing clearly took things up a notch—but that still didn't mean this couldn't be the result of a dare that had gotten out of control. For everyone's sake, Nash hoped that was true.

“Can you give me a list of ranch hands? Including anyone you've recently let go?”

“Sure. We're not big enough to have a year-round staff—it won't take long. Give Billy and me ten minutes to make up a list.” With that, Gunner and Billy walked back to the house. That left Nash and Ellie staring at the doomed animal.

“This is wrong,” Ellie said, resting her hand like a benediction on the large brown head with its lifeless eyes. “You shouldn't have died for no reason like this.” Her voice was tight with sorrow and compassion for the animal. “What possible good can come of something like this? Why do it?”

“It is hard to see. Gunner said she would have gotten a good price—can't anything be salvaged? You can't still use the animal for meat if it's just died? I mean, I don't know how all this works, but to lose an animal like this...”

“Look. She was shot more than once. And in the wrong places. We don't harvest like that at Blue Thorn. We don't give the animals any reason to fear. Not only is it just plain wrong, but fear releases a hormone called cortisol into the bloodstream. It affects the meat—you can actually taste the difference.” She turned away from the carcass. “Even if we could eat it, I don't think I could bring myself to.” The wind whipped her hair across her eyes and she reached up to push it back. “Such a senseless waste. What's the matter with the world that everyone thinks it's okay to hurt everyone else?”

“What about the fur? The hide? Does that cortisol hormone affect those things?” Nash felt as if it was a stupid suggestion, but there had to be some way to keep this from being a total loss. To lose the animal completely—both in life and in use—felt like giving the shooter too much of a victory.

Ellie blinked up at him. “No. Cortisol doesn't affect the hide.” She ran her hand over the bison's head again. “We can shear and use hides from harvested animals, so it is possible. It's probably what Gunner will do—we can't just let an animal go to waste like this. Still, I don't think I could stomach using a murdered animal's coat for fiber or leather.”

It did sound rather cruel. Then again, no less cruel than allowing the animal to just die as the result of a stupid prank. “I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have suggested it. It was a dumb idea.”

She squared her shoulders. “No, it's not.” She looked back at the animal, as if asking its permission. “I mean it's a horrible situation, but what's the point in letting it stay horrible?” She gave Nash a long, pleading look and grabbed his hand. “Find who's doing this, Nash. Please.”

Her hand felt warm and strong against his palm. The urge to ease her pain, to protect her while she healed, surged up powerfully within him. “I will, Ellie. I will.”

* * *

“Ellie?”

Ellie sank into the chair in Gunner's study that afternoon, reeling from the unexpected sound of Derek's voice. She didn't need to take this kind of hit today. “Why are you answering Pete's phone?” She'd set up a call on a Sunday specifically to avoid Derek, who was often too busy with Sunday brunch to be anywhere near the offices.

“I was in his office checking on something. I saw your name on the screen. I've tried every other way to talk to you, but you won't take my calls or reply to my messages.”

Thanks, boss
. Ellie would have a thing or two to say to Pete for letting Derek spring himself on her like that. She'd finally gathered up the nerve to discuss her work situation with her boss and he put Derek on the line? Ellie shut her eyes and forced all the strength she could into her voice. “I don't want to talk to you, Derek. You don't have anything to say that I'm interested in hearing.”

“How about I'm sorry? I am. I really am, you know.”

There was something deeply satisfying about hearing Derek finally apologize. But it also meant hearing that smooth, silky thing he did with his voice that could convince anyone to do anything. Derek was a fabulous cook, but he was an exquisite persuader. She brought up the vision of his hand running down Katie's arm to steel herself against his charm. She'd have to forgive him someday—sooner rather than later, if only for her own peace of mind so she wouldn't have to carry that anger around inside her—but she wasn't ready now. “Thank you. Now please let me talk to Pete.”

“He stepped out of the office for a minute so I could talk to you. How are you? Are you in Texas? Pete said you took the vacation time you had saved up for the honeymoon and a leave on top of that. I'm worried about you. You didn't have to run away. We could have gotten past this.”

At least Pete had kept his promise not to tell anyone exactly where she'd gone—not that Derek had looked very far, or he surely would have thought to call the ranch.
Past this?
There was no gentle way past this. There was only slogging through the wreckage—at least for her. Derek's voice sounded so calm and collected, so
unharmed
. As if it had cost him nothing to throw away their relationship, while Ellie felt as if it had cost her most of her sanity and all her confidence. Slog through that in the blinding gossip spotlight of GoodEats? No thank you. “I had to get away for a while.”
I
'
m sure you
'
re loving being the center of a juicy gossip storm, but it
'
s not my thing.
“It's not like I could have gotten any work done anyway.” Truly, Ellie felt as if she'd left all her concentration and resolve back in Atlanta. She was used to being productive and focused, but these days she felt as if she wandered through time like twigs floating down the creek that ran through the back of the pastures.

“I really am worried about you, Ellie. Are you sure you're okay?”

Okay? She wasn't anything close to okay. How could Derek even think she was okay? She hadn't said anything of the sort. Her stomach tightened. “No, Derek, I'm not okay. I will be, but I'm not now.” She rose out of the chair. “And that's on you. I suppose some small part of me is glad—or will be—that you cheated on me before I vowed to spend the rest of my life with you, but you still hurt me.” Tears threatened, but she tamped them down. She would not fall apart in front of Derek. He didn't deserve to hear her in pieces. “So worry all you want. And don't call or pull a stunt like this again. Please put Pete on the phone now.”

“Ellie.” His voice was a perfect combination of smooth and sorrowful. He could always reduce her to puddles with the way he said her name.

She began pacing around the study. “I mean it, Derek. Don't make me hang up on you, because I will.”

Ellie heard Derek mutter something, flinching with the clang of the receiver hitting Pete's desk. She heard faraway voices for a moment, then Pete picked up the phone and sighed. “So I blew that one. I shouldn't have given him the phone, but when he saw it was you... Well, I'm sorry. Bad call.”

Pete was the best part about working for GoodEats. Demanding, certainly, but honest and fair. He worked long hours right alongside his staff and was quick to praise a job well done. “Please don't let him talk to me again. I'm not ready, okay?”

“He's been crazy since you left. Well, crazier than usual. Brilliant—he's done amazing things with the dessert menu—but wild and short-tempered. For what it's worth, you were good for him.”

“Yeah, well, it turns out he wasn't so good for me.” Ellie sat against the edge of Gunner's desk, fiddling with a coaster Audie had made. One of those kit projects made from jersey loops. She'd help Audie make dishcloths with cotton yarn next week, maybe. “No offense, but I'm glad I left. How's the intern working out taking up the slack?”

She could hear Pete sit back in his chair. “You won't like the answer.”