“Oh?”
“Look, Tory. I know you never got over Trask.” Anna saw the protest forming on Tory’s lips and she warded it off with a flip of her wrist. “There’s no use denying it; you love him and you always have, regardless of all that mess with your dad. It’s written all over your face.
“And, despite what happened in the past, I think Trask’s basically a decent man who loves you very much. What happened with your dad was unfortunate and I was as sad as anyone when Trask took the stand against Calvin. But that was five years ago and it’s over.” She took a deep breath. “So, if Trask is the man you love, then you’d better do your damnedest to let him know it.”
Tory couldn’t hide the stunned expression on her face. “That’s the last piece of advice I would have expected from you,” she replied.
“I had a chance to think about it last night. Let me tell you, if fate dealt me another chance with Jim, I’d make sure that I held on to him.”
“How? By giving up your practice and independence?”
Anna shook her head. “Of course not. By just being a little less stubborn and self-righteous. I still believe that you can have everything, if you work at it. But you have to give a little instead of taking all the time.”
“But that works two ways,” Tory thought aloud.
“Of course. But if you’re both willing, it should be possible.” Anna looked up at the clock on the wall and nearly jumped out of her skin. “Geez, is it really three? Look, Tory, I’ve got to cut this session short, if you don’t mind. I’m supposed to be in Bend at four.”
“I’m just glad you stopped by.”
“Anytime you’re willing to cook, I’m ready to eat. Thanks for lunch!” Anna was out the back door in a flash and nearly bumped into Keith as he was walking through the door to the back porch.
“Excuse me,” Anna called over her shoulder, while running down the two wooden steps to the path that led to the front of the house.
Keith, his eyes still fastened on Anna’s retreating back came into the kitchen and threw the mail down on the table. Dust covered him from head to foot and sweat darkened the strands of his hair. Only the creases near his eyes escaped the reddish-brown dust. He placed his hat on the peg near the back door and wiped the back of his hand over his face, streaking the brown film. “I suppose I missed lunch,” he said, eyeing the dishes in the sink.
“I suppose you did,” Tory replied. “Anna and I just finished.”
“I saw her take off.” He stretched the knots out of his back. “I have to go into town and pick up the part for the combine. Then I’ll go talk to Paul Barnett—you did say that he wanted to see me?”
Tory nodded.
“After that I’ll probably stay in town for a couple of hours and have a few beers at the Branding Iron. Do you think I could con you into making me a sandwich or something while I get cleaned up?”
“Do I look like a short order cook?” she asked testily. “Didn’t I ask you if you’d be back for lunch this morning before you left?”
“Please?”
Keith could be so damned charming when he chose to be, Tory thought defensively. She managed a stiff smile. “Okay, brother dear, I’ll see what I can scrape together, but I’m not promising gourmet.”
“At this point I’d be thrilled with peanut butter and jelly,” Keith admitted as he sauntered out of the kitchen and up the steps. In a few minutes, Tory could hear the sounds of running water in the shower upstairs.
By the time that Keith returned to the kitchen, some twenty minutes later, he’d showered, shaved and changed into clean clothes.
“I hardly recognized you,” Tory said teasingly. She placed a platter of ham sandwiches next to a glass of milk on the table. It was then she saw the mail. Quickly pushing aside the magazines and catalog offers, she picked up the stack of envelopes and began to thumb through them.
“Bills, bills and more…what’s this?” Tory stopped at the fifth envelope. The small white packet was addressed to her in handwriting she didn’t recognize. There was no return address on the envelope but the letter was postmarked in Sinclair. Without much thought, she tore open the envelope. A single piece of paper was enclosed. On it, in the same unfamiliar handwriting that graced the envelope was a simple message:
STAY AWAY FROM MCFADDEN
“Oh, de
ar God!” Tory whispered, letting the thin white paper fall from her hands onto the table.
“What?” Keith set down his sandwich and grabbed the letter before staring at the threat in disbelief. As the message began to sink in, his anger ignited and his face became flushed. He tossed the letter onto the table. “That does it, Tory, I’m not going to listen to any more of your excuses. When McFadden gets back here you tell him that you’re out of this investigation of his!”
“I think it’s too late for that.” She was shaken but some of her color had returned.
“The hell it is! Damn it, Tory. He was beaten. Neva’s been getting threatening phone calls. You were shot at, for crying out loud! Shot at with a rifle! What does it take to get it through your thick head that whoever is behind this—” he pointed emphatically at the letter “—is playing for keeps!”