Heart of Texas Volume 3: Nell's Cowboy

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“And he isn’t willing to show me where Bitter End is, either. Just like you predicted.”

She nodded. “You’ll be leaving, then?”

“No.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d expected; he could tell by the way her eyes widened. “No?”

“I’m going to locate Bitter End, Nell, with or without this town’s help.”

Five

Nell was furious with Travis, but she didn’t know why. That morning, as she’d ridden across her property, checking the fence line, she’d thought about him. And she’d thought about Bitter End.

Just when she was beginning to like Travis, really like him, she’d discovered that he had an ulterior motive. He’d made friends with her children, kissed and flattered her, pampered Ruth. All this because he wanted her to take him to Bitter End.

He’d been open enough about telling her he was a writer. Now everything was beginning to fall neatly into place. His job was what had brought him to Promise, probably with all expenses paid by his publisher. She should have suspected he had an ulterior motive for befriending her and her family. He was planning to write about Bitter End—although she didn’t really know why. He’d told her he was working on a book. What kind of book? she wondered, and what, exactly, did he hope to achieve?

What really infuriated Nell was his comment about Bitter End being a historical site. He seemed to be implying that Texans were a bunch of hicks who didn’t appreciate their own history. Well, that was the furthest thing from the truth! She knew as much about this state’s history as anyone around here. In fact, she thought grimly, maybe she respected history more than that...that Easterner. That wannabe cowboy. Because at least she recognized that the past still had power over the present—the way Bitter End had power over Promise.

Everything she’d ever heard about the town had been negative. Her family’s roots went back to the original settlement, which had been founded shortly after the Civil War; so did Jake’s. Something ugly had happened there, something horrible. Whatever it was, it’d been disturbing enough to cause everyone to vacate the town. No one knew why, and for years and years the town was rarely mentioned. When people did discuss Bitter End, they spoke in hushed whispers. Now some ignorant Yankee wanted to turn it into a historical site!

When Richard Weston was fleeing the authorities, he’d holed up in the town, and that made sense. He belonged there, if anyone did. Richard had figured out where the town was partly because of Savannah. Despite Grady’s objections, she’d explored the countryside to find Bitter End in her quest for lost roses.

Nell had asked Savannah about it, and she’d watched a shiver move down the other woman’s arms as she recounted her visit. Savannah had mentioned an impressive find in the cemetery—Nell had forgotten what the roses were called. Savannah had gone on to describe the eerie feeling that had come over her; she’d hurriedly taken the rosebush and left.

Later, convinced she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her, Savannah had returned, hoping to rescue other roses. She’d told Nell the most astonishing fact. Nothing grew inside the town. Not even a weed. The town was completely without life.

Yet all Travis saw was a money-making opportunity. He’d come to Promise to dig up information about a place best forgotten. Despite everything she’d said, everything Grady had told him, he’d insisted he was going to find Bitter End. Then he’d write about it and attract more people, strangers, to the town. Soon tourists would pour into Promise and their lives would no longer be their own. No one here knew why the settlers had abandoned Bitter End—and Nell thought it was better to leave things that way, to let whatever secrets were buried there lie forgotten. She wasn’t the only one to feel this way.

She wished now that Travis had chosen to move into town, to the bed and breakfast. Phil and Mary would know better how to handle his curiosity.

Nell closed her eyes and groaned at the memory of how pleased she’d been when he decided to stay on at the ranch. She felt lost and inadequate; worse, she felt foolish for having allowed this man to weave his way into her life.

She understood now that he had his own reasons for kissing her, for encouraging her kids, for staying at her ranch.

Reasons that had nothing to do with her.

* * *

Savannah had just placed Laura in her crib when someone knocked on the back door.

“Anyone home?” Unexpectedly her brother stepped into the kitchen.

“Grady, come in.” Savannah didn’t bother to hide her surprise. It was unusual for him to drop by the house on his own. Her home was only a short distance from the ranch house, and while Grady visited often, it was almost always with Caroline and Maggie.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Wonderful.” The birth had been the most incredible experience of her life. Savannah had known there’d be pain and had prepared as best she could for labor. What she hadn’t known was how she’d feel afterward—that sensation of stunned joy and amazement, that surge of accomplishment and pride.

In her arms she’d held living proof of her love for Laredo. Together they had created this new life, this beautiful child.

“I was just about to have a cup of tea,” Savannah said, crossing to the stove. “Would you care to join me?”

Grady removed his hat and set it on the oak table. “Sure.”

He’d get around to explaining his visit in his own time. Savannah could see no need to rush him.

She filled two cups and carried them to the kitchen table, then sat across from him. He asked her a few questions about the baby, but she noticed that he wasn’t really paying attention to her responses. He was thinking, weighing his next words, wondering if he should approach her about whatever he’d really come about. After living with Grady all those years, Savannah knew him well, better than he realized.

“Nell’s guest called me,” he said casually as he stirred a second spoonful of sugar into his tea.

Nell’s guest! That was the reason for this visit. The sugar had given him away. Grady seldom added sugar to anything, and two teaspoons was particularly telling.

“I don’t believe I’ve met him,” she said.

“His name’s Travis Grant. Seems nice enough—Caroline and I met him at the rodeo.”

“Oh?”

“Like I said, he phoned yesterday.”

“Really?” She remained calm, unaffected.

“He knows Richard.”

The words hit her without warning and Savannah stared at her brother. A sinking sensation came over her, and a deep sadness. Her younger brother had been sentenced to twenty-five years in prison without parole. It hurt to think of Richard locked behind bars. She’d written him twice, once shortly after he’d been taken back to New York to stand trial and then after he’d received his sentence. He hadn’t answered either letter.

“Actually it was Grant’s ex-wife who introduced him to Richard,” Grady added. “Apparently she was the court-appointed attorney who defended him.”

“Did this Travis Grant tell you what he wanted?” It went without saying that if Richard was involved, their brother was looking out for his own selfish interests.

Savannah often wondered what had turned Richard into a man who acted without conscience or compassion. Her heart ached every time she thought about him. Why? She would never understand why he’d used his family, why he’d betrayed good people, why he’d exploited the vulnerable.

Twice he’d stolen from her and Grady. The first time had been the day they’d buried their parents. While Grady and Savannah stood beside the grave, Richard was sneaking away with the forty thousand dollars in cash left them by their father. Six years later he’d returned with a hard-luck story, needing a place to stay.

Savannah blamed herself for what happened next, since she’d been the one who convinced Grady to let him stay. But Grady wouldn’t let her accept the blame. He insisted they were equally at fault because he’d known what kind of man Richard was and had closed his eyes to the obvious. Both of them felt an obligation to family, and they both wanted to believe their brother had changed.

Within a few months of arriving back in Promise, Richard had charged thousands of dollars at various stores in town, using the Weston accounts, the Weston name. When it was all uncovered, Richard had conveniently disappeared, leaving Grady to foot the bill. Only after he was gone did Grady and Savannah learn the whole truth. Richard had been on the run—from his unsavory creditors and “partners” and from the law. The New York City DA’s office had a list of charges long enough to put him behind bars until he was an old man.

What hurt Savannah most wasn’t the fact that Richard had destroyed her faith in him; it was learning that her brother was guilty of bilking immigrants. He’d helped get them into the country illegally, then forced them to live and work in deplorable conditions. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d confiscated their money. He’d been one of several men accused and convicted of a crime so heinous she cringed every time she thought about it. That her own flesh and blood had hurt innocent people in this way had devastated her. Men, women and children had suffered because of her brother.

“Richard told Travis about Bitter End,” Grady continued.

Savannah exhaled a deep sigh. “So Travis is here to find it?”

“That’s what he says.”

“For what purpose?”

“I don’t know for sure. He’s a writer, so I imagine he’s doing research for an article about Bitter End.”

Savannah thoughtfully replaced her cup. “What did you tell him?”

Grady scowled, then met her eyes.

“Grady Weston, what did you do?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Now I know where Caroline gets that tone of voice. I should have recognized it was from my very own sister.”

“You were rude, weren’t you?”

He shrugged. “I told him to mind his own damned business. I said there wasn’t a soul in this town who’d help him, and advised him to give up his search now.”

“Oh, Grady.”

“I don’t think he’s going to take my advice.”

Savannah mulled over this information for a couple of minutes. “I’m beginning to think it might be a good idea to put the past to rest.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one knows what happened in Bitter End,” Savannah reminded him. “No one’s sure why the entire town up and moved. It almost seemed to take place overnight. From what Ellie told me, there were still cans on the shelves in the mercantile store. People left furniture, clothing, all kinds of valuables behind. They were in such a hurry to leave they couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“It was probably some disease or something to do with the water,” Grady reasoned.

“Perhaps. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for what happened. All I’m saying is it’s time to find out what went wrong and why. And who better than a writer? Someone who knows how to research and how to separate fact from legend. A stranger. Someone who can approach this without the emotions and fears we all have about Bitter End.”

Grady didn’t look convinced. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s best not to disrupt the past.”

Savannah considered her brother’s words. “A year ago I would have agreed with you.”

“But not now?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Not now,” she said. “Having Richard home was a painful and bitter lesson. It taught me that turning away from the truth, ignoring trouble, is a dangerous thing to do.”

“It isn’t like we’re hiding anything,” Grady insisted. “No one knows what went wrong in Bitter End.”

“Then don’t you think it’s time we did?”

“Why?”

“Because, as the Bible says, the truth shall make you free.”

“I’m free now,” Grady said. He stood up and walked over to stare out the window above the sink.

“We aren’t free, Grady,” she offered gently. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be this afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” he countered sharply.

She didn’t contradict or challenge him, but she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Whatever had happened all those years ago in Bitter End still haunted them. In Savannah’s opinion, it was time to bring it into the light, expose it and deal with the consequences. Each generation has been influenced by Bitter End, whether they admitted it or not.

Savannah recalled the first time she’d heard about the ghost town. Grady had been the one to tell her. He’d heard their parents talking when he was a teenager, discussing this secret place and its mysterious past. Afterward Grady, Cal and Glen had decided to find the town and, in the manner of boys, went about making it their own private adventure. Savannah had wanted to join them, but they didn’t want a girl hanging around.

She would have gone to look for it on her own, except that Grady had said he’d take her to Bitter End once he knew where it was. Naturally she had to promise not to tell anyone, especially the Patterson brothers.

The three boys had eventually located the town. But Grady never did take her there; it was the first and only time he’d broken his word. All he’d tell her was that something horrible must have happened in that place. She remembered how he’d closed his eyes and shivered, and vowed he was never going back.

His words had remained with her for a long time.

About a year ago she’d sought out the town herself. According to an article she’d read, abandoned cemeteries and homesteads were often a good source of nineteenth-century roses. That motivation was strong enough to let her put aside her apprehensions about the place. After weeks of searching, she’d stumbled upon the town, hidden deep in the hills. Only then did she understand what her brother had meant.

The instant she’d stepped onto the main street of Bitter End, a feeling had come over her, an eerie sensation of anxiety and dread. And yet she couldn’t have named the reason, couldn’t have said what she feared.

Afterward she managed to convince herself that she’d imagined the entire episode. So she returned. But she’d been right the first time. Something was there—not a ghost, but a persistent feeling of intense sadness, a haunting sorrow.

“Let him do it, Grady,” she said, releasing a pent-up sigh. “Let him find out what happened in Bitter End. Let Travis Grant expose whatever wrongs were committed there.”

“You think a stranger can do that?”

“He can start.”

Her brother pondered her words, his face thoughtful. Then he slowly shook his head. “It isn’t often I disagree with you, but I do now.”

“You’re not going to help Travis find Bitter End?”

“No.”

She accepted his decision, but deep down, she wondered how long it would take him to change his mind. Grady was having second thoughts already; otherwise he wouldn’t have come to her in the middle of the day. Especially during the busiest time of the year.

Savannah knew she was right, and she knew Grady would eventually see it. Beneath his doubts he, too, felt a need to lay this matter to rest once and for all.

* * *

Talk about stirring up a hornets’ nest, Travis mused as he sat and stared at his blank computer screen. Nell had avoided him all day. And after speaking to Grady Weston, it wouldn’t surprise him if the other man was busy rounding up ranchers to tar and feather him. All this because he’d asked a few questions about a ghost town. Why were they so intent on keeping this secret, whatever it was?

He wondered if the people here even knew what had happened in that town. Perhaps they were being influenced by fears and vague suspicions rather than facts.

Travis preferred to face problems, not let them fester. He believed in knowledge and the power of truth. Shutting down the computer, he leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head, reviewing his options. Soon, however, he discovered that his thoughts weren’t on Bitter End anymore.

Instead, he was thinking about Nell. Despite her disapproval of his plans, he admired her strength and courage. He was attracted to her, he admitted that, and he sensed she felt the same way. Even if she preferred to ignore it.

Travis decided to get a breath of fresh air and he reached for a sweatshirt. He walked out of the bunkhouse and around the yard, stopping to say hello to Yucky. As he neared the front of the house, he was pleased to find Ruth sitting outside in a rocker, crocheting.