* * *
Erin had offered to help Carmen with the buffet. As the guests streamed into the great room, she busied herself filling the glass pitchers with iced sweet tea, making sure the casseroles and salads had serving utensils, and checking the supply of paper plates, cups, and napkins.
Kyle and his mother had arrived together. There was no sign of Kyle’s father. Not that Erin cared, since she’d never liked the man. Hunter Cardwell struck her as bossy and self-important, and he treated his poor wife as if he owned her.
If she married Kyle, the Cardwells would be her in-laws, she reminded herself. But right now she had other things on her mind. Ignoring Kyle’s attempt to catch her eye, she hurried back to the kitchen.
After the first rush of guests, the traffic around the buffet table had slowed. For now, everything appeared to be under control. After telling Carmen she’d return to help clean up, Erin wandered back into the great room.
She could see Will standing next to the tall river-stone fireplace, greeting the guests who came by. Kyle and his mother were talking to him now. Vivian Cardwell was clasping Will’s big hand between her palms. Her eyes gazed up at him almost tearfully as she offered her condolences. Kyle was shifting restlessly, looking around the room, probably for her, Erin thought. But after his caveman behavior, she wasn’t ready to be with him again—not until she was sure he’d learned his lesson.
“Need a break?” The voice at her shoulder was Beau’s.
Erin had been hoping to talk with her uncle while he was here. Grateful for the chance, she gave him a conspiratorial nod. “Out the back,” she said.
Like two schoolchildren playing hooky, they cut through the kitchen, slipped out the back door, and headed across the graveled yard to the horse pastures. Beau had always been Erin’s favorite relative. She was happy just to be with him. But she also had some serious issues to bring up.
The sun was blazing hot. Erin tugged away the ribbon that tied back her hair, letting the light breeze cool the sweat-dampened roots. Beau had taken off his jacket and slung it over his arm.
“Congratulations on the new little one,” she said. “Boy or girl?”
“It’s a boy. We just found out. But this trip has worn Natalie out. I talked her into lying down with April for a bit. With luck they’ll both get in a nice nap.” His eyes followed the flight of a circling hawk. “I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I was about your mother. Tori and I were best friends growing up. And then I couldn’t even make it to her funeral.”
“It all happened so fast,” Erin said. “I understood why you couldn’t come, but I can’t say that Dad did.”
“That’s just one more thing he’ll hold against me. But I’m worried about Will, Erin. He doesn’t look good.”
“I’m worried about him, too,” Erin said. “Losing Mom almost killed him. And now Jasper. He’s reeling under the weight of it all. To make matters worse, he blames himself for Jasper’s death.”
“That doesn’t make sense. The old man was ninety-three. He probably had a stroke or heart attack and ran that ATV into a wash. At least that’s what I heard. You could say that he shouldn’t have been out there alone in the first place, but nobody ever told Jasper what he couldn’t do.”
“Maybe so. But Dad’s beating himself up because he didn’t check on Jasper the night before and send out a search party right away.” Erin brushed a lock of windblown hair out of her eyes. “The sheriff took a quick look and ruled Jasper’s death an accident. But I’m not satisfied with that. What if somebody killed him, Beau?”
“Crazier things have happened on this ranch.”
“After the burial’s done, I plan to do some investigating on my own. I owe it to Dad—and to Jasper—to find out what really happened.”
“If I were going to be here longer, I’d help you,” Beau said. “As it is, feel free to call me about what you find out. At least I might be able to give you some suggestions.”
“Thanks, I was hoping you’d say that.”
They were passing the windmill when the sharp ring of metal on metal reached their ears. Beau gave Erin a questioning look.
“That’s the farrier Dad hired. He claims the work will pay for itself in time saved by the cowboys and in the condition of the horses. I argued against the expense, and I still have my doubts. But at least the man—Maddox is his name—seems to know what he’s doing. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
The largest pen was covered at one end by an open shed. In its shade, Luke Maddox was shoeing a brown and white gelding with Appaloosa markings. More horses drowsed nearby as Luke, with his back to the fence, shaped a shoe on the anvil he’d set up. Even in the shade, the heat was oppressive. Luke had tossed aside his shirt. Perspiration gleamed like bronze on his muscular torso. As he raised his hammer, a picture from her school days flashed through Erin’s memory—the Roman god Vulcan standing over his forge, virile and powerful. Vulcan in blue jeans she titled the image in her mind. Luke would probably laugh at her if he knew what she was thinking.
What would it be like, hearing him laugh?
Luke’s attention had been focused on the horseshoe he was shaping. As Erin and Beau came to the fence, he glanced up. A questioning look flashed in his eyes. He straightened, lowering the hammer to his side. What the hell are you doing here? his expression seemed to say.
“Luke, I’d like you to meet my uncle, Beau Tyler,” Erin said, making the introductions. “Beau, I’ve already told you about Luke Maddox.”
Beau extended a hand over the fence. Luke held up a work-stained hand and shook his head. “You won’t want to shake hands with me, Mr. Tyler. Not unless you want to smell like horse. I never knew Will had a brother.”
“I live in DC. I only came for the funeral,” Beau said.
“DC? You’re a government man?”