Maddie herself had mostly sat uncharacteristically quiet, all too aware of the man sitting across the table. An enigma, he was, and one Maddie shouldn’t want to solve. Her curiosity had gotten her in hot water all too often in her life. Boone stirred it up again. Though he hid it well, a deep sadness peered from those shadowed blue eyes. Yet true affection shone from his gaze when he looked at Vondell. With the hands, he seemed relaxed. Only when she was around did he turn into a block of stone. This afternoon it had almost seemed like he was teasing her, but tonight the glowering stranger had returned.
Can you blame him, Maddie? You waltzed into this place and stole his home.
No. She hadn’t stolen it. Sam Gallagher had given it away. Very soon Boone would have it back. As soon as she could possibly make it happen. This vacation had derailed on its very first day.
Yet the peace and quiet she had longed for was certainly abundant. Well, maybe not the peace, but definitely the quiet. It was almost eerie. Night sounds she didn’t recognize had kept her awake longer than she would have liked.
Maddie stepped onto the porch and turned around, struck anew by the vista. Gentle hills rolling on to the sunset, the only sounds the wind, the soft lowing of cattle, the excited barking of a dog. She drew in a deep breath, realizing how her heartbeat slowed in time with the rhythm of a place that still bore the look of its past. If she ignored the power lines, she could be looking at this country as it was a hundred years ago.
Too slow for her, that was for sure. She had a lot of life to live yet…if only she could figure out how she wanted to do it. But still… There was something about this place that made her curious. She couldn’t help trying to picture her father here, as boy and young man. Couldn’t help wondering about her grandmother… and those who had come before Rose. Sam’s letter had said that generations of Wheelers had fought weather and Indians and hard times to keep this place. Closing her eyes, Maddie searched inside herself for a sense of connection, but nothing answered.
Maybe someone in Morning Star could tell her about her family. She’d ask Vondell.
Maddie opened the screen door and headed toward the kitchen. Just before she got there, she heard Boone’s voice.
“What’s the name of that investigator, Vondell? The one looking for Mitch?”
“Devlin Marlowe. He’s out of Houston. Nice young fella, smart as a whip.”
“You got his number?”
“No, but I’m sure it’s on Sam’s desk somewhere. Want me to look?”
“I’ll look. I need to go over the books, anyway.” He paused. “Guess I’d better go ask City Girl if it’s all right, since it’s her house, not mine.”
“It’s not her fault, Boone.”
“I know it’s not. I just…” A muffled curse was followed by a sigh. “I just wish I understood why he did it.”
He sounded more weary than angry. Maddie settled back on her heels and wondered if she should turn around or if she could make it to the stairs without being heard. Beneath her, a floorboard squeaked.
Boone stepped out into the hallway. “Want to join us, Big Ears?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was headed to my room.”
“Well, while you’re here, why don’t you enlighten us?”
“I don’t know much.” She stepped around the door.
“Tell us what you do know. What is this debt Sam owed your father?”
“I don’t really think…”
“You come in here and take my home and I don’t even deserve an explanation?”
Maddie’s temper simmered. She tried to think up a simple answer. “He said it was because he should have looked for my father when he first knew he was alive.”
“When did he find out?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that it was before your mother died.”
“Why didn’t he look for Dalton?”
Maddie hesitated. “I’m not sure you’ll want to hear it.”
Boone’s expression was wry. “I was just a kid then. How could it mean anything to me? Or am I wrong? Is it something he said about me? Maybe he just wanted me not to have this place so bad he was grasping at straws.”
“It’s not about you. Listen, maybe it’s not a good idea right now.”
“So you’re the one who decides what I need to know and when?”
“Boone…” Vondell cautioned.
He held up a hand. “No. I want to know.” His gaze narrowed, tension invading his frame. “She comes down here to play lady of the manor for a month, inserting herself where she’s not wanted, and then she eavesdrops on a private conversation. She has answers I need in order to understand maybe just a little of why my father hated me enough to do this—and she refuses to answer because she, who doesn’t know a damn thing about any of us, doesn’t think I’m ready to hear it.”