Page 2 of Silent Deception
Trevor snorted. “Not for long. You ordered us to go home and leave you in peace. You were so surly about it, day after day, that the nurses finally encouraged us to keep in touch by phone.”
Ryan winced. “Must’ve been the medication.”
Trevor shot him a wicked smile. “Bein’ unwanted and all, we finally had to turn tail and go home in disgrace.”
“I don’t know what to say, except that I’m sorry.”
Adelfa searched Ryan’s face. “They took good care of you, I hope. Good food? A good bed? We all worried about you every day.”
“Well...not a whole lot,” Trevor added. “Me and Garrett figured you were just too mean to die.”
Adelfa gripped Ryan’s forearm for a minute, as if for reassurance, then lumbered back to the kitchen, muttering in Spanish.
“She lit candles for you at her church,” Trevor said in a low voice. “She had a little shrine here, on the sideboard in the dining room, and had candles going there, too. She never said grace at a meal without adding prayers for your healing.” His voice broke. “It’s sure good to see you again.”
Ryan swallowed the unfamiliar lump in his throat. “Same here.”
“And Dad—” Trevor looked away. “Well, he was in the middle of trying to get some bill passed. He couldn’t make it out to Maryland with us, but I know he was concerned, and he did make some phone calls.”
Concerned?Ryan laughed. “I sure hope they didn’t interfere with his schedule.”
Trevor glanced over Ryan’s shoulder, his eyes troubled, then he hitched a thumb toward the main horse barn. “Maybe we should have a talk before he finds out you’re here. Got a minute?”
Ryan shoved his battered duffel bag to one side of the doorway with his boot. “My time is yours.”
He followed Trevor out to the pine-paneled office in the main horse barn, just inside the double doors.
“Looks like you’re doing well,” Ryan said with a dry laugh, nodding toward shelves crowded with quarter-horse championship trophies and framed Superior and Register of Merit award certificates. “Last time I was here, the trophies only filledonewall.”
“I spend a lot of my time on the road now. We hit most of the major shows west of the Mississippi.” Trevor shrugged. “It’s good for business.”
Ryan sauntered over to the five-tier racks of show saddles and the glittering rows of silver-encrusted show halters, bridles, and breast collars hanging from padded hooks. “Well, I’ll be.” He rested a hand on the custom-made saddle that had been his a lifetime ago. “I’m surprised this is still here.”
“Of course it is. It’s yours.” Trevor motioned to a couple of leather barrel chairs in front of the cluttered desk, then tossed his hat on one of them, propped a hip on the edge of the desk, and rubbed his face. The premature gray in his dark hair and the deep lines creasing his cheeks made him look far older than thirty-two.
“It’s good to have you back. Things have been tough here—real tough. What did Leland tell you in the letter?”
“Mostly things I already heard. That Oscar moved away and left the financial records in a terrible mess, then the new foreman embezzled a lot of money.” Ryan leaned back in his chair. “Did anyone check out Oscar to see if he was involved?”
“He went back to Mexico and we lost track of him. He was an experienced hand with cattle and we all thought he was an honest man, but he managed just basic record keeping and never did understand that dinosaur of a computer in this office. He was hardly capable of pulling off embezzlement.”
“And the next man?”
“Dad fired Oscar’s replacement four months later.” Trevor shook his head in disgust. “And that was fortunate, or Nate would’ve had more time to steal us blind. Leland says we’ll never know the full extent of that loss.”
“NateCantrell?” Ryan stared at him. “I knew there were problems but never heard all the details.”
“You haven’t been back since. I wrote, but with you halfway around the world most of the time, maybe that letter never caught up.” Trevor’s brow furrowed. “Crazy isn’t it? A local guy, doing something like that to people he knows.”
“All I remember is that he and Dad had occasional business dealings over the years.” The Cantrell name brought back other, less welcome memories, but none Trevor needed to hear.
“After Nate, Dad hired a string of business managers who either quit or were fired, and now he’s trying to do it himself. He’s trying to getmeto do it,” Trevor amended. “Shoot, I’m out working with the horses and cattle from dawn to dusk as it is. I’ve tried, but he gets impatient. Then he works on it himself and...” He took a deep breath. “You know about him, right?”
“That he’s an arrogant old coot? That he’s probably making your life miserable?”
Trevor moved over to the saddle racks, where he absentmindedly began polishing the sterling nameplate on the cantle of a cutting saddle with the cuff of his shirt. “His eyes, Ryan. He won’t admit it to anyone. I only know his diagnosis because I happened to see a billing slip and the visit summary from his last ophthalmology appointment. He’s got macular degeneration. He’s also got high cholesterol and a bad heart, but I sure haven’t had any luck making him go in for his checkups. He’s long overdue—and one of these days, he’s gonna drop in his tracks.”
“All this at justseventy-two?”
