Sacred Ground (18 page)

Brett marveled at her composure. She looked great in her full denim skirt and blouse. Silver sconce boots, western belt and bolo added to her country look, but on her it looked nothing but feminine. Seeing the way Wyatt looked her over, Brett couldn't fight back the jealousy and anger that filled him.

"Gordon wasn't much of a husband. I know that, you know that, and so does the whole town. I can't name nary a person who felt grieved over his death."

"But that doesn't excuse murder."

Wyatt took a long, steady drink from his glass. "Love, life takes some unexpected turns. Gordon stuck his nose into my business."

"You killed him?"

"What I'm about to tell ya will be your word against mine. You could tell another fella I said it, but I'll deny every word. Just so you understand where I'm coming from." His tone echoed a warning.

“I understand.”

"I was out hunting the day Gordon died. It was starting to get dark and I'd just spotted a big bull elk. I figured I had about a half-hour before it was illegal to shoot. I came over a ridge and there he stood. I aimed and fired."

"You shot Gordon by mistake?" she asked.

"The elk dropped where it stood. You can't imagine my excitement. I ran up to him . . . then
I
saw―"

"What?"
Willow
interrupted.

"Sheriff Ferrell and Gordon were fighting. I don't mean just yelling at each other, I mean fist fighting."

Brett nearly laughed at Wyatt's story. Mike had no bruises the next day. Besides, if Wyatt had just shot a rifle, Gordon and Mike would have heard it for sure.

"Could you hear what they were arguing about?" She sipped her wine.

"No doubt about it. Gordon was screwing Mike's sister. I'm sure you knew he wasn't exactly a faithful husband."

"Yes, I knew."

"That's my property they
was
fighting on, so I went down to them and fired my rifle to get their attention. Mike, being a sheriff automatically grabbed his pistol from his holster and leveled it at me. I laughed 'cause it seemed right out of
Gunsmoke
."

"What happened then?"

"Gordon must have realized it was me, we
was
good friends you know, and so he jumped at Mike. I think he wanted to make sure I wouldn't get shot by mistake. Mike's gun fired, and I was sure it shot wild. I figured I'd get their attention by shooting my rifle into the air once more, just for emphasis. When I stepped back to fire my gun I twisted my ankle on a rock and landed on my ass . . . butt. Anyways, when I hit the ground my finger pulled the trigger, purely by mistake you understand."

She set her drink on the coffee table. "So you shot Gordon after all. Why didn't you admit it and explain the accident that it was? You had Mike there to back up your story."

"There was more to it than that. My bullet entered Gordon's heart, and Mike's bullet went right through his head. We don't know which of us killed him."

"Good Lord! It still was an accident. Mike knows that and you should too. Why make it look like a pack of wolves attacked him and tore his body apart?"

"Mike didn't want questions about why he and Gordon were out there that night. He has reports to file if he shoots his gun, and he didn't need any questions asked. Mike said he could cover it up and save us both a lot of grief. So, that's what we decided to do. No one has questioned it except you."

"There has to be more to it than Gordon and Ella having an affair. I can't imagine Mike and Gordon fist fighting either."

"You saying you don't believe what I'm telling you? Damn it,
Willow
, I didn't have to tell you what happened. I just figured you deserved to know. I'm interested in you, and I didn't want this between us."

"I think I've been unfair to you, Wyatt. I thought you were after my property and horses, but you could have hidden this from me and still have gone after those things. It's sweet of you to trust me. It does make sense, it being an accident. I doubt Mike cared for Gordon misusing his sister. I've often thought you and she might get married."

"Ella and me?"
Wyatt asked. "Where did you get an idea like that?"

"Gordon mentioned it. Maybe he thought telling me about the two of you would discount any gossip about him and her. It gets somewhat complicated, doesn't it? I know this is going to seem strange coming from me, but have you heard about Brett Turner's misfortunes?"

"What?"

"Seems Brett is being plagued by all sorts of catastrophes."

Wyatt took a gulp of his drink and bolted to his feet. "What kind of catastrophes?"

"I think Brett has it figured out, though," she said, sitting back down.

"Has what figured out?"

"I suppose I can tell you, I mean, after all you did share what you know with me. Everything seems to lead to Mike Ferrell."

"What leads to Ferrell?"

Brett watched
Willow
stand and walk around the room. He was impressed with how she was handling things. Wyatt must have forgotten they found three bullets in Gordon's body. The weasel was lying through his teeth.

Branches rustled behind him. Brett turned just in time to see a fist slam into his jaw. His legs turned to rubber, and his body slammed into the ground.

* * *

"How about more wine?"
Wyatt poured before she had a chance to decline.

"Thank you," she said, hoping he continued with his own ample drinking. "Do you think Brett would be doing these things to
himself
?"

"What?"

"Well, think about it. I don't know anyone who would benefit from his misfortune. I wouldn't mind buying his ranch, but I certainly wouldn't stoop to force the issue. I doubt if you're in any position to buy his ranch, so who would do this?"

Wyatt fidgeted with his glass,
then
took another healthy swallow.

She smiled up at him, sipping her wine.

 
"See your point. I'd like to buy it, but until I get a good crop of wheat in, it ain't gonna happen. I've offered him a good price, won't say I haven't. Told him I'd pay him a nice price each year and add on interest. It was a good offer, but he turned me down."

"You offered to buy his ranch?” she asked. “But, why would you do that? I thought you were struggling with your own. I'm sure with a good crop this year, you'll be on top of things, but it wouldn't be enough to buy out Brett, too, would it?"

"My land needs a rest. If I add Brett's property to mine, I'd have the ability to rotate my planting from year-to-year. But, like you, I wouldn't give him grief just to get him to sell. He's a fool not to take my offer, though. Half-breed like him should clear out anyway."

"What kind of comment is that? I'm a full-
blood,
you want me to clear out, too?" She straightened her shoulders, and the tension in the room increased

The loud knocking on the door made her jump. Wyatt staggered slightly toward the door.

As soon as he moved into the other room,
Willow
emptied her wine and a good portion of the contents of the bottle into a planter, and then moved closer toward the conversation at the door.

"You fool!" Wyatt said.

"Don't get mouthy with me. How the hell was I to know? I'll take care of him, you can count on that.
Just thought you should know."

Willow
had no doubt they were discussing Brett. She wondered who spoke. Although muddled, the voice sounded familiar, yet she couldn't place it.

"I suppose you're right, but I don't like it one bit," Wyatt whined. “I don't even want to hear where or how. Things are getting out of hand. I wish we'd never started this.”

Wyatt closed the door behind him, making it impossible for her to hear their conversation. She rushed to the French doors and slipped outside. Edging against the side of the house, she glanced around the corner to see who Wyatt was talking to. She gasped, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She shook, nearly choking. Gordon, her dead husband, moved away from the door. He looked her way. She held her breath, forcing herself to remain motionless.

"I'm sick of this whole thing," Wyatt said. "If we weren't so damn close to being rich, I'd say the hell with it, I've had enough. Make Brett's death look natural. I don't want the Sheriff's Department questioning me for days like when
you
died."

"Stop ordering me around," Gordon snapped. “Besides, it worked then and it'll work this time, too. I'm sick of
laying
low, and I'm not going to
Canada
. I've changed the plan."

"Like hell you're not. We got us a plan and an agreement. I've held up my part of the bargain and I'm close to―"

"Getting us caught.
Don't get shit-faced on me now, Wyatt. I'm the brain behind this plan and don't you forget it. You think Sheriff Ferrell is stupid? He's been snooping around. He's come close to catching me at every turn. Now neighbor Brett will meet his end."

"You'd better get out of here before
Willow
sees you. She's inside," Wyatt whispered.

"You stupid shit!
Why didn't you say so before? I'll take her boyfriend to Rattlesnake Cliff. By the time he comes to, if he does, he'll find his sleeping buddies not near as satisfying as
Willow
. Keep in mind, she likes it rough."

Willow
gritted her teeth. Indecision gripped her. If she ran, they'd know she overheard them. She had no doubt what cliff Gordon had in mind. She hurried back inside, grabbed her drink and sat on the piano bench, pretending interest in his family portraits assembled on its dusty top.
Her heart pounded hard and deafening when Wyatt came into the room.

"Sorry, love.
Just my hired hand checking on our plans for tomorrow.
I see you've finished your drink." He smiled as he moved toward her with the near empty bottle.

"I helped myself," she said, releasing an embarrassing hiccup. "Hope you don't mind."

"Glad you did." Wyatt filled her glass, emptying the bottle. "Where were we?"

"I believe we were discussing our neighbor." She smiled up at him while sipping on her drink.

"He has been acting rather strangely lately, hasn't he?"

"His son, Sean, told me Brett had proof Ferrell is the one doing all the . . . um―"

"Sabotaging?" Wyatt offered.

"Yeah, sabotaging."

"What kind of proof?" Wyatt drained his glass and poured himself another four fingers.

"I can't remember. I know it had something to do with evidence he'd found at Gordon's murder site, at his well, and I think someplace else."

"Try to remember,
Willow
. It could be important."

She smiled up at him and crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to slide up on her thigh. She read his lust and continued her line of conversation. "Drink up your bottle of Scotch, Wyatt; I'm way ahead of you." She motioned toward the empty wine bottle. "I've finished mine, and when you finish yours maybe we can get to know each other even better." She crossed her boots at the ankle, allowing bare legs to extend an even stronger invitation.

"Forget the drinks." He slammed his glass on the table.

"Now, now, Wyatt.
All good things are worth waiting for. Gordon and I always had one agreement, we finished our drinks, and then we got down to business. If you like what you see, you'll have to play by my rules." She opened the top three buttons of her blouse and smiled, encouraging him to chug down three stiff drinks in a row. He finished the bottle by tipping the remaining contents into his mouth and swallowing with gusto. His body swayed, and she released yet another button.

"Game time," Wyatt announced.

"I believe you're right. Where's your bedroom?"

"
Thisss
way,
lovvve
."
He laughed, leading the way upstairs, apparently enjoying his drunken buzz. "I'll show youuuu my toy ifff you showw me yurrs."