Page 64 of Dark Side of the River

She hoped so, but there was such a sadness in his tone, she worried. His phone rang and she hurriedly excused herself. But as she walked away, she knew that whatever was really bothering him ran deeper than her. Maybe even deeper than him and Cooper. She hoped that hers and Cooper’s suspicions about him were wrong.

When she returned to the hospital, her mother was gone. She called Cooper.

“YOU’REGOINGTOwear a hole in that floor.”

Charlotte turned to see her ranch manager standing in the doorway of the living room, hat in hand, a sheepish look on his face. Boyle Wilson had been a fixture on the Stafford Ranch since he was a teen. She remembered him flirting with her, making her even more aware of the seventeen years between her and her first husband, Rake Stafford.

Before Rake, the ranch had been the Carson Ranch, left to Charlotte as the only child. When she married Rake, the name was changed to the Stafford Ranch. He brought in enough money and know-how to expand the ranch and teach her how to survive as a rancher. She’d given birth to five children before Rake died, leaving her free to run the place the way she wanted.

As she looked around the room, she reminded herself that she’d been born and raised for this life. Just as she’d been born and raised in this rambling house with its worn wood floors and rock fireplaces. Boyle had been around from as far back as she could remember, right through her short second disastrous marriage until today. He’d often told her that he knew her better than anyone.

What he meant by that was that he knew her secrets. He thought that gave him job security. She thought he underestimated her and knew that, one day, he would find out just how much.

In the meantime, as long as he did his job, she kept him close. Just not too close. Even at fifty-five, close to her own age, he still looked at her as he had when he was a young ranch hand.

“What’s this I hear about Deacon Yates bringing Tilly and her horse home yesterday?” she demanded.

“I just know what CJ told me. Seems she went riding, got thrown from her horse, and Deacon found her and brought her and her horse back here.”

Charlotte tried to breathe. Boyle didn’t believe that story any more than she had. Tilly rode better than anyone she knew. But accidents did happen. She just didn’t believe this had been one of them. Two of her daughters on the McKenna Ranch? Two of them being rescued by either a McKenna or their ranch manager? “The sheriff called this morning. Said you got in a fight with Rusty Malone at the bar yesterday. I’ve told you to stay away from him.” He was some shirttail relative of her second husband.

“He started it.”

“Well, I’m finishing it. Stay away from him. Stay away from the bar, if that’s what it takes.”

“Anything else, Mrs. Stafford?” he asked sarcastically.

“No.” As he turned to leave, she said, “Boyle, see that my horse is saddled.” She said it to put him in his place. She was more than capable of saddling her own horse. She would also double-check that he’d done it correctly. Did she really not trust him? The thought made her uneasy.

“I’ll get right on that,” he said, his look questioning where she was going. But he was too smart to ask as he left.

She pulled out her phone, keyed in the number. When her call was answered, she said, “Meet me at the usual place—Yes, now, please.” With that, she hung up. She was still the matriarch of this ranch, and damned if she wasn’t going to find out what had been going on right under her nose.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

OAKLEYWASSITTINGup in bed when Cooper and Tilly walked into her hospital room. She burst into a smile and reached for Cooper’s hand. “I heard that you found me, saved me,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I was there, even though I can’t tell you how much you scared me,” he said. “It’s good to see that you’re so much better.”

Oakley looked at her sister and laughed. “This explains Mother’s foul mood.” As Cooper walked over to the window to look out, she motioned Tilly closer and whispered, “Are the two of you...?”

“No,” Tilly whispered back. “Not yet.”

Her sister laughed again. “Who knew you’d grow up to be the rebel in the family?”

“We want to ask you some questions, if you’re up to it,” Cooper said, returning to her bedside.

“I don’t remember anything from that day at all,” she said.

“You don’t remember me almost hitting you with my pickup, then?”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“When I found you on the ground after you’d fallen off your horse, you grabbed my arm and said, ‘Buttercup.’ You were quite insistent. I thought it was the name of your horse and that you were worried about the mare. But when I told you that your horse was fine, you said ‘Buttercup’ again as if it was important. Once I found out that your horse’s name was Cheyenne...”

“Buttercup?” Oakley shook her head, frowning. “I have no idea.” She sighed. “It’s so frustrating. I’m told someone shot me, you found me and saved me, but I have no idea what I was doing there or why anyone would want to shoot me. I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I did hear that the two of you have been trying to find out what happened. Thanks, since I won’t be getting out of here for a while yet.”

“I know you don’t know why you were on the McKenna Ranch or why you came riding out of that ravine that leads to the old homestead,” Cooper said. “Your sister and I rode back there. Someone had a meth lab in the larger of the buildings.”

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