Last Chance Reunion. Linda Conrad
“There’s one too many Chance brothers on this ranch. What the hell are you doing here at this hour, Travis?”
He’d fallen asleep sitting on the front porch again. The streaks of rose coming from the east were just breaking over the horizon.
“It’s not that early. Not on a ranch,” Travis replied. “I’ve been up for hours. You’ve just forgotten what it’s like to live in the country.
“And I’m here to check up on you,” he went on. “I heard you went to see Aunt June last night and that you and Lacie McCord are planning on taking a fresh look at Dad’s murder conviction. That right?”
Travis ran the Bar-C for the family—and did a damned good job of it, too. But that didn’t mean he could run Colt.
“Yeah, what about it?”
Travis eased his six-two body down on the porch’s top step, the same as their older brother Sam had done a few days ago, and twisted to face Colt. “Good. If I’d had the time, I would’ve done something about it years ago. I’ve tried a couple of times to talk Gage into checking into the murder. But until he found his wife again, he was spending every spare moment trying to find Cami.”
Gage, yet another brother, was the private investigator in the family. And Cami was their lost little sister.
“Now that Gage is getting remarried,” Colt began, “I’m guessing he’ll have less time than ever to do anything extra for the family. And I’ve got nothing but extra time for now.”
Travis scrunched up his mouth and looked as though he’d swallowed a lemon. “You have any suspects in mind? Any places to start looking?”
“If you’re talking about Sheriff McCord, yes, I imagine in the end we’ll find he either committed the murder himself or knows for sure it wasn’t Dad who did it. But I intend to locate proof before I go around accusing him of killing Mom. I’m an attorney, remember?”
Travis nodded but then asked, “What about Lacie? He’s not only her stepfather, he’s her boss.”
“She says it’s not a problem. I’ll keep an eye on her—make sure she’s not caught in the middle.”
Colt immediately thought of a question he’d had for a while and stood to ask it. “Say, how’d McCord get the job of sheriff anyhow? He’s been the county sheriff for as long as I can remember.”
“He’s been sheriff longer than any of us has been alive. In Texas the job of county sheriff is an elected position. But Dad brought McCord to Chance County close to forty years ago and backed him for the job.”
“So someone else could possibly run against him now?”
Travis’s eyebrows went up. “Suppose so. You want the job?”
“Not even a little.” Colt choked back a laugh and walked down the steps to face his brother. “But maybe someone like Lacie would be a better choice than what we’ve got now.”
“That reminds me of the other thing I wanted to talk to you about this morning.” Travis stood, too, shook out his pants’ leg and walked to his SUV.
When he came back, he was carrying a 12 gauge pump shotgun and big box of shells. “There’re rumors of illegal weapons coming through Chance County. And we’ve seen new evidence of illegal activity, possibly undocumented migrants but more likely gunrunners, inside the boundaries of the Bar-C.”
“Have you talked to the sheriff?”
Travis gave him a sharp nod. “Of course, but he didn’t appear too concerned. We can take care of our own problems on the Bar-C. But I’m concerned about the townspeople and the other ranchers.”
Colt silently agreed with his brother. The citizens of Chance County were for the most part decent and hardworking. The reason they had a sheriff’s department in the first place was to keep things peaceful and safe from outsiders.
“I brought this for you.” Travis held out the shotgun. “Still remember how to shoot one of these? You used to be a sharpshooter in high school, but I haven’t seen you with any weapons since you’ve been home.”
“Don’t like the things. Being shot in the back will do that to a man.”
“Right. But do you think you could still use one if you had to?” Travis shoved the gun at him.
Colt took the shotgun, but just stared at it, feeling as though the weapon might burn right through his hand if he moved. “Maybe. But I’d rather not.”
“Keep it handy.” Travis held out the box of shells. “I’m not happy about you staying this far out on the range, all alone and without protection. You sure you wouldn’t rather move into the main house with us?”
Colt had to chuckle at that one. “What I’m sure about is that your new wife and two little ones would not enjoy having their beaten-up old uncle moving in and cramping their style.”
Travis gave his injured leg a pointed look. “You’re walking better every time I see you. And Summer and the kids would love to have you. You sure...?”
Colt waved off the rest of his sentence. “I’m positive. Sam invited me to move in with him, too.” He took the box of shells. “I’ll keep the 12 gauge and stay put, thanks.”
The thought of that car on the highway without its lights last night gave Colt another reason to keep a gun around. The shotgun would be going in the rack in his pickup as soon as his brother left.
It took a few more minutes to convince Travis he would be okay. But finally his brother climbed back in his SUV and headed off to work.
Colt wasn’t worried for himself. He could handle anything that came up. But he still hoped to convince Lacie to stay with him. And though she was probably perfectly competent with her own weapon, he wouldn’t be taking any chances. Not with the only woman who had ever meant anything to him.
* * *
“I don’t remember old Mrs. Murphy,” Colt said from behind the wheel of his pickup. “How long has she been in Chance?”
It was late afternoon and the sun hung low behind a spring haze as they drove through town. Lacie had been surprised to see a shotgun hanging in the rack behind Colt’s front seat when he picked her up. But she hadn’t made mention of it, hoping he would talk about it first. No such luck. So she kept her mouth closed on the subject and answered his question.
“You do remember her. She was the middle school teacher for forty years.”
“That Mrs. Murphy? She’s not teaching anymore? I always figured the principal would have to pry the chalk out of her cold dead hands.”
Lacie couldn’t stop the smile but she tsked at him. “Colt, really. She retired about five years ago. Lives in the same house as always, on a little pension and her social security. She knows everyone in town. Taught most of them. And she knows nearly everybody’s business, too. I think she’ll be a good place to start.”
“She has to be well over eighty. She knows we’re coming?”
“I called her. She was surprised but willing to talk to us.” Lacie figured the old lady would probably talk their ears off. The problem would be keeping her on track.
By the time they pulled up in Mrs. Murphy’s front yard, a deep madras-blue sky was greeting both the North Star and the first tip of a waning moon. The older woman must have heard their approach because she came out on her porch to wait for them to climb from the pickup.
“Good evening, Mrs. Murphy.” Colt tipped his hat as she led them through her front door. “It’s been a long time.”
“Colt, isn’t it? You look just like your father did at your age. Jacob Chance was one fine-looking man.”
They all sat down in her tiny front room. Colt looked uncomfortable perched on an antique straight-backed