Proof of Innocence: Yesterday's Lies / Devil's Gambit. Lisa Jackson
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all in big trouble. Especially you.”
Tory’s fingers drummed nervously on the fence. She tried to change the course of the conversation. “Like I said, I think you’re borrowing trouble,” she muttered. “What Trask McFadden says and what he does are two different things. He’s a politician. Remember?”
Keith’s mouth twisted into a bitter grin and his eyes narrowed at the irony. “Yeah, I remember; and I know that the only reason that bastard got elected was because of his testimony against Dad and the others. He put innocent men in jail and ended up with a cushy job in Washington. What a great guy.”
Tory’s teeth clenched together and a headache began to throb in her temples. “I’m sure that central Oregon will soon bore our prestigious senator,” she said, her uncertainty carefully veiled. “He’ll get tired of rubbing elbows with the constituents in Sinclair and return to D.C. where he belongs, and that’s the last we’ll hear of him.”
Keith laughed bitterly. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. If Trask McFadden’s back it’s for a reason and one reason only: you, Tory.” He slouched against the fence, propped up by one elbow. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Her gray-green eyes glittered dangerously. “Let’s just wait and see. If Trask has the guts to show up, I’ll deal with him then.”
Keith’s lower lip protruded and he squinted against the glare of the lowering sun. “I think you should leave....”
“What!”
“Take a vacation, get out of this place. You deserve one, anyway; you’ve been working your tail off for the past five years. And, if McFadden comes here and finds out that you’re gone for a few weeks, he’ll get the idea and shove off.”
“That’s running, Keith,” Tory snapped. “This is my home. I’m not running off like a frightened rabbit, for crying out loud. Not for Trask McFadden, not for any man.” Determination underscored her words. Pride, fierce and painful, blazed in her eyes and was evident in the strong set of her jaw.
“He’s a powerful man,” Keith warned.
“And I’m not afraid of him.”
“He hurt you once before.”
Tory squared her shoulders. “That was a long time ago.” She managed a tight smile and slapped her brother affectionately on his shoulder. “I’m not the same woman I used to be. I’ve grown up a lot since then.”
“I don’t know,” Keith muttered, remembering his once carefree sister and the grin she used to wear so easily. “History has a way of repeating itself.”
Tory shook her head and forced a smile, hoping to disarm her younger brother. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life worrying about Trask and what he would or wouldn’t do. She had already spent more hours than she would admit thinking about him and the shambles he’d attempted to make of her life. Just because he was back in Sinclair... “Let’s forget about McFadden for a while, okay? Tell Rex I want to try ice-cold poultices on our friend here.” She nodded in the direction of the bay stallion. “And I don’t want him ridden until we determine if he needs a special shoe.” She paused and her eyes rested on the sweating bay. “But he should be walked at least twice a day. More if possible.”
“As if I have the time—”
Tory cut him off. “Someone around here must have the time,” she snapped, thinking about the payroll of the ranch and how difficult it was to write the checks each month. The Lazy W was drowning in red ink. It had been since Calvin Wilson had been sent to prison five years before. By Trask McFadden. “Have someone, maybe Eldon, if you don’t have the time, walk Governor,” she said, her full lips pursing.
Keith knew that he was being dismissed. He frowned, cast his sister one final searching look, pushed his hat lower on his head and started ambling off toward the barn on the other side of the dusty paddock. He had delivered his message about Trask McFadden. The rest was up to Tory.
* * *
TRASK PACED IN the small living room feeling like a caged animal. His long strides took him to the window where he would pause, study the distant snow-laden mountains through the paned glass and then return to the other side of the room to stop before the stone fireplace where Neva was sitting in a worn rocking chair. The rooms in the house were as neat and tidy as the woman who owned them and just being in the house—Jason’s house—made Trask restless. His business in Sinclair wasn’t pleasant and he had been putting it off for more than twelve hours. Now it was time to act.
“What good will come of this?” Neva asked, shaking her head with concern. Her small beautiful face was set in a frown and her full lips were pursed together in frustration.
“It’s something I’ve got to do.” Trask leaned against the mantel, ran his fingers under the collar of his shirt and pressed his thumb thoughtfully to his lips as he resumed pacing.
“Sit down, will you?” Neva demanded, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. He stopped midstride and she smiled, feeling suddenly foolish. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I just hate to see you like this, all screwed up inside.”
“I’ve always been this way.”
“Hmph.” She didn’t believe it for a minute and she suspected that Trask didn’t either. Trask McFadden was one of the few men she had met in her twenty-five years who knew his own mind and usually acted accordingly. Recently, just the opposite had been true and Neva would have had to have been a blind woman not to see that Trask’s discomfiture was because of Tory Wilson. “And you think seeing Tory again will change all that?” She didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.
“I don’t know.”
“But you’re willing to gamble and find out?”
He nodded, the lines near the corners of his blue eyes crinkling.
“No matter what the price?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Neva stared at the only man she cared for. Trask had helped her, been at her side in those dark lonely nights after Jason’s death. He had single-handedly instigated an investigation into the “accident,” which had turned out to be the premeditated murder of her husband. Though Trask had been Jason’s brother, his concern for Neva had gone beyond the usual bounds and she knew she would never forget his kindness or stop loving him.
Neva owed Trask plenty, but she couldn’t seem to get through to him. A shiver of dread raced down her spine. Trask looked tired, she thought with concern, incredibly tired, as if he were on some new crusade. His hair had darkened from the winter in Washington, D.C., and the laugh lines near his mouth and eyes seemed to have grown into grooves of disenchantment. His whole attitude seemed jaded these days, she mused. Maybe that’s what happened when an honest man became a senator....
At that moment, Nicholas raced into the room and breathlessly made a beeline for his mother. “Mom?” He slid to a stop, dusty tennis shoes catching on the polished wood floor.
“What, honey?” Neva stopped rocking and rumpled Nicholas’s dark hair as he scrambled into her lap.
“Can I go over to Tim’s? We’re going to build a tree house out in the back by the barn. His mom says it’s okay with her....”
Neva lifted her eyes and smiled at the taller boy scurrying after Nick. He was red-haired and gangly, with a gaping hole where his two front teeth should have been. “If you’re sure it’s all right with Betty.”
“Yeah, sure,” Tim said. “Mom likes it when Nick comes over. She says it keeps me out of her hair.”
“Does she?” Neva laughed and turned her eyes back to Nicholas. At six, he was the spitting image of his father. Wavy brown