Page 28 of A Secret Heart
Ed had never been this close to her before. If she turned her head…well…the warmth of him so close unnerved her in a strange new way.
He stepped away and Rebekah flipped the page of her notebook. Aimlessly, she began sketching. Anything to redirect her mind and calm her nerves before Mr. Quade entered the room. A replica of the tattoo on the man’s hand took shape unexpectedly as she worked to distract herself.
Ed cleared his throat behind her. She turned back the page, sitting up straighter.
Isabella returned with the coffee. As she handed them each a cup, Heath Quade stepped into the room.
* * *
Ed’s eyes locked on Heath Quade’s as the man’s lips drew into a tight line. No doubt the others in the room could feel the palpable tension at Quade finding a McGraw in his parlor.
Rebekah cleared her throat. “Thank you for agreeing to this interview.”
If she wanted to take the lead, he’d let her. Ed leaned against the wall by the window, watching Rebekah’s reflection in the glass. Probably best if he kept sipping instead of talking. Except his next sip revealed how close the bottom of the cup was, and Isabella had already exited the room with no sign of returning soon.
“What made you want to run for president of the Cattlemen’s Association?” Rebekah perched, prim and proper, on the edge of the settee, her pencil at the ready over that notebook of hers.
“I want nothing more than to give back to my community. Serving as president of the Cattlemen’s Association is the best way I can imagine doing that.” Quade moved to the large leather chair in the room, not far from Rebekah, as he spoke.
Resisting the urge to add his own thoughts on Quade’s supposed desperation to give back to his community, Ed let his cup clank a little heavily on the fancy saucer. Rebekah scribbled away. He caught a swift flash of Quade’s subtle but hostile glance in his direction before Quade’s focus returned to Rebekah.
“What is your opinion of the current president?”
Quade drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair before droning a lengthy explanation of his views on the current president along with a bit of his own background and ranch.
Ed pushed back a snort. Too bad Quade had left out the part about trying to steal the land out from under the McGraws. All for a batch of water rights.
“Were you there when they brought the injured man into Calvin? The one who’d been attacked by a bandit? I know the man is a cattle rancher. Do you think there might have been any foul play related to his cattle business? Any comment on that?”
Good for Rebekah. Pinning him down to where he was that day under the guise of an interview question.
“I wasn’t there. My ranch hands and I were busy working on a fence in the south pasture. But I did hear the terrible news, although I don’t believe it relates to cattle rustling. And I’m sure Marshal O’Grady is doing a fine job of finding the man responsible.” Quade shook his head in sympathy as if genuinely moved by the situation. He then offered a smug smile before pulling out a toothpick.
“Of course.” Rebekah tapped the notepad with her pencil. “You’ve mentioned a lot about your history here and your family, but I don’t recall you mentioning your first wife. There have been rumors of a mystery surrounding her death. Any comment on that?”
The man shifted a little in his chair, his brows rising. “The loss of my first wife is a painful subject. I’m sure you’ll excuse me if I don’t wish to talk about it. Frankly, I wouldn’t expect a seasoned reporter to even ask such a thing. But I understand Mr. Sullivan probably didn’t have anyone of that caliber to send.”
Rebekah smoothed her hand over her skirt as her head tilted to one side. She wore that smile plastered on her face, the one where her lips turned up but no teeth showed. The one that usually came right before she let loose with a comeback. But she simply glanced Quade’s way, then down to her notebook.
“Several members of the community are concerned at the amount of land you are amassing and what connections you may have had at the land office. Specifically with Ernie Duff.”
“I—I don’t believe Mr. Duff works for the land office anymore.” Quade rolled the toothpick in his fingers a little faster.
“They are asking why, when you have such a nice spread already, you are buying so much land. Some even question if you are building more of an empire for yourself. They wonder if you will only help the larger ranches or, if elected, represent even the little ranchers. Like the ones you are buying up.”
Quade shifted in his oversized chair. “Land is a legacy. I don’t feel I’m amassing more land for the land itself. It’s more of an investment in my roots here, for myself and my heirs. A true testimony I plan to stick around to invest in the people of this community.”
Heath Quade had turned that around, but only the ones who hadn’t been on the receiving end of his bullying ways would believe it.
Time for Ed to get his questions answered.
“I don’t suppose you heard about the well being poisoned out at our homestead?” Ed turned from watching the reflections in the window.
“Poisoned?” Quade shook his head slowly. “I may have heard a rumor.”
“Mind if I question your men about their whereabouts the night before last? I’d like to see if any of them saw anything.” Ed circled around to place the empty cup and saucer on the coffee table in front of the settee, never taking his eyes off the man’s face.
“No one but the marshal questions anyone on my ranch. If you can convince her that there’s a good reason to interrupt their work, I’m happy to let Marshal O’Grady talk to them.”
