Shelly ignored the wave of anger, the urge to defend Josh that swept through her. “And here I believed you when you said you weren't going to argue with me about Josh.” She smiled sadly. “Some things never change, do they?” When he would have replied she held her hand up. “No. Stop. I don't want to hear it. This is an old argument between us, and I didn't come back here to take up where we left off. Just leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone. Deal?”
Sloan shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “What was between us never ended—even if you want to bury your head in the sand and pretend otherwise. We have some unfinished business, you and I, and this time I want it finished.”
“Well, you'll forgive me if I disagree,” Shelly said, fear and anticipation curling through her at the threat…and the promise in his words.
He smiled, a smile that didn't reach the golden eyes that studied her so closely. “You can disagree all you want, honey, it won't change a thing.”
“We'll just see about that,” Shelly snapped, any idea of ending the meeting on a polite note vanishing. She took a deep breath, fighting to control her temper. Ignoring him, telling herself she wasn't aware of his tall, broad-shouldered body right behind her, she rehung the shirt, any pleasure she might have gotten from it erased by the exchange with Sloan. Turning around, she glared at him, and muttered, “You are still the most arrogant man it has ever been my misfortune to meet.”
He grinned, the gold eyes crinkling attractively at the corners and making her heart lurch. “Yeah, I'm told it's part of my charm.”
“Well, as far as I'm concerned,” she said as she swept regally past him, “it's greatly overestimated. You shouldn't believe everything you're told.”
Reaching the front of the store, not wanting to linger in spite of the fact that Cleo was now standing alone behind the counter, she waved at Cleo, and said, “I'll see you later—maybe you could come up to the house for coffee or something?”
“Sure thing. I'll call you, and we'll set up a time.”
As if running from a fire, Shelly hit the swinging glass doors and was gone.
A disgusted expression on her face, Cleo shook her head when Sloan came strolling up to the wooden counter a second later. “You just don't learn, do you?” she scolded. “Couldn't you have left the subject alone? Or at least mouthed the conventional phrases?”
Sloan shrugged. “OK, I handled it badly. I didn't mean to start an argument…” He smiled ruefully. “Well, maybe I did. Having her angry with me is better than being treated to that frigid Granger politeness.”
“I just don't understand the courtship rituals these days,” Cleo complained. Glancing slyly at Sloan, she murmured, “In my day, used to be if a boy was interested in a girl, he was nice to her, polite, tried to please her.”
“First of all, I'm not a ‘boy,’ ” Sloan replied, his eyes bright with laughter, “and second of all, I'm not ‘interested’ in Shelly Granger.”
“Oh, is that so?” Cleo said, looking unimpressed. “Could have fooled me.” She glanced down at her scarlet nails. “Josh Granger wasn't a saint—anybody who really knew the man would agree on that.” When Sloan would have interrupted, she said, “Just a minute, then you can have your turn.” She fixed him with a look. “Now I know that you have good reason to hate him, and I don't blame you one bit for feeling as you do about him, but Sloan, for your own good you have to let it go. Put it behind you. If you don't, it's going to eat at you and, in the end, destroy you. Do you want Josh to have that sort of power over you?”
Sloan made a face, feeling about ten years old. Worse, there was too much truth in what Cleo was saying for him to ignore. “OK. OK. I'll work on it. Will that satisfy you?”
“Might—if you work
real
hard.” And as he turned to go, she added, “Something you should remember; he loved her. And whatever he did or didn't do, he did it for that reason. He loved her.”
“Yeah,” Sloan said grimly, “and so did I.”
S
helly raced from the store, intent upon putting as much distance between herself and Sloan Ballinger as possible. Fumbling for her keys, her mind on all the things she could have said to Sloan, she was rocked back on her heels when she slammed into an immovable object in the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered sheriff's deputy.
“Whoa. Whoa there. Where's the fire?” rumbled a voice that struck a chord of memory as a pair of big hands caught her shoulders and held her at a slight distance.
Embarrassed and shaken, Shelly gazed up what seemed like a very long way to a sun-dark face, the lower half concealed by an impressive black mustache. While the voice sounded familiar, she couldn't place it, and she didn't recognize him. But then, she thought, possibly only his mother would. The mustache was as effective as a mask, and the black-reflecting sunglasses and the cream-colored Western hat he wore hid the rest of his features. But there was something about him…. She was not a short woman, standing five-foot-nine in her bare feet, but the man before her was huge. Bigger, she decided, than Sloan, and he was, if she remembered right somewhere around six-four. Something about that voice and his size nagged at her. If he was someone she'd known in the past, that height and formidably muscular form should have made him unforgettable. An elusive memory slipped through her mind.
He grinned and it all came together. “Jeb!” she cried, delight obvious. “I didn't recognize you for a moment.”
“Now that,” he said in a deep voice, as he released her and removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, “just pains me no end. Not recognize your own cousin? Come on, Shelly. How many guys my size do you run into—in uniform and in St. Galen's?”
Looking up into those laughing black eyes, she grinned. “No excuses—between your size and the uniform I should have recognized you immediately.” She held out her wrists. “So, wanna arrest me for a bad memory?”
He appeared thoughtful. “Nah—too much paperwork,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. Throwing his arms wide, he said, “Give us a hug, kid. It's been a long time. I've missed watching that sassy butt of yours.”
Shelly smothered a giggle and launched herself into his embrace. Jeb Delaney had always been one of her favorite people, even if they had not known each other well. The ten-year gap in their ages had been one impediment. Jeb had been closer to Josh in age than to her. They were related through their grandparents; her grandfather and Jeb's grandmother, Anne, had been brother and sister. When Anne had married Mingo Delaney, it had caused no end of hard feelings—Mingo's mother had been a Ballinger, and the other Grangers had been appalled that Anne had chosen to align herself with one of the detested Ballinger clan. Anne had further enraged her family by defiantly naming her firstborn son, Jeb, after the original Jeb Granger. And Jeb Delaney, Senior, had followed through by naming
his
firstborn son, and the current holder of the name, Jeb. Shelly remembered Josh complaining about the high-handed way the Ballingers had stolen their family name. He had grumbled often enough that the name should have belonged to him—and not some shirttail relative of the Ballingers. Shelly had wisely not pointed out that Jeb Delaney was also a “ragtag” relative of theirs.
It had all seemed rather silly to Shelly, and it still did—you didn't
own
a name, and her parents could have named Josh Jeb, if they had wished. Laughing up into Jeb's face just now, she decided that now was as good a time as any to strengthen the easy friendliness that had always been there between them.
In a small town like St. Galen's, it was inevitable that their paths cross frequently, and despite the family estrangement, she and Jeb had made their own peace. He had teased her unmercifully at times during her youth, but he had also made certain that she knew that she could trust him. Probably one of the things she admired most about him was that he didn't give a damn about the family feud. “Hey,” he'd told her once, “the argument was between York and Jeb—the originals—not me and not you. And if that stiff-necked brother of yours were as smart as he's supposed to be, he'd have realized that fact long ago. So, whadda you say that between the pair of us, we just pretend that the rest of the family is plain nuts?” Grinning, Shelly had agreed without hesitation. She'd been fascinated by this tall, handsome cousin, OK second cousin—as much because she'd been told to ignore him by her family, as his own appealing personality. Being warned against him, and all of the Ballingers for that matter, had had the opposite effect—at seventeen she had developed a terrific crush on Jeb and had mooned over him all summer until she had returned to boarding school that fall. He had her undying gratitude by never having acknowledged all her girlish attempts to catch his attention. Better yet, showing great restraint he had never teased her about it—thank God! Josh would have had a fit if he'd known how often that summer she'd thrown herself in Jeb's path. She felt herself blush even now as she remembered the ruses she had concocted to attract his attention. And if Josh had ever learned of it…. She shuddered. Josh had barely tolerated Jeb, and she wondered if there hadn't been something else between them, some other reason than just family legends for their mutual dislike.
They stood there grinning at each other for several seconds, then Jeb's face grew serious. Gently he asked, “Are you OK? Dealing all right with Josh's suicide?”
She nodded, her own face sober. “It's been hard—especially the shock of it…and living in his house—seeing constant reminders of him…. But, yes, I'm dealing with it.” She smiled lopsidedly. “It's getting easier every day—I think.”
He patted her clumsily on the shoulder. “That's my girl! Now tell me how long you're going to be around the valley, so I can figure out how many times I'll be sent out to break up all the wild parties you'll be holding.”
Shelly grimaced. “You would remind me! Come on, Jeb, I was sixteen, and Josh was away for all of Easter week. I was up there by myself, well, except for Maria and her kids. All of my friends were on Easter break, and we were looking for something to do. What teenager wouldn't have thrown a party? And it wasn't that wild! If that old busybody Mrs. Matthews hadn't taken it upon herself to check up on me, no one would have known.”
Jeb laughed. “I'd forgotten how much fun it is to get your goat. You take the bait so quickly.”
“And you are no gentleman to remind me of one of my most embarrassing moments from childhood.” She shook her head, smiling. “I'll never forget opening the door and there you were, looking just like the Terminator.” She laughed. “My God, the panic you caused. Melissa-Jane nearly broke her leg climbing out one of the back windows and Bobba Neale gave himself a black eye when he ran into a porch post trying to get away.”
“Hey, not my fault if you guys had a guilty conscience. Did I arrest anyone? Did I take anyone away? Nope. All I did was warn you to keep it down and to remember that it was against the law to be driving and drinking. Did I comment on the pyramid of beer cans in the middle of the living room floor? Which, by the way, was pretty impressive.”
She smiled at the memory. “Yeah, it was.”
“All kidding aside, how long are you going to be around?”
Briefly, Shelly explained her decision to return to Oak Valley for good. Jeb was pleased.
“I'm glad. You belong here. The ranch needs you. The community will be glad to have you back.” He hesitated, let out a long breath, and said, “The past few years, Josh didn't seem to care much about what happened in the valley.”
Staring at the shiny badge on his khaki shirt, she asked quietly, “Were you one of the deputies called to the scene?”
He sighed. “Yes, I was. I'm not stationed here anymore—I'm a detective these days, working out of the Willits substation. One of the reasons I was called to the scene. Don't see many violent deaths up here, but it's almost always someone I know. Never thought it would be Josh.”
“I know. One of the hardest things for me to deal with has been that he committed suicide. I still have trouble believing it.” There was just the faintest change in Jeb's expression, but she was on it in a flash. “It
was
suicide? No doubt about it?”
“That's what the coroner put on the death certificate,” he replied in that neutral tone of so many law enforcement officers.
“You didn't answer my question,” Shelly persisted, her eyes searching his.
Jeb sighed, pushed back his hat. “I didn't see anything at the scene that raised alarm bells, but like you, I knew Josh and suicide just didn't do it for me. Besides…”
“Besides?”
“Oh, dammit, sweetheart, I don't want to put ideas in your head or fill you with a lot of conjecture, but you might as well hear it from me as someone else.” Jeb took a deep breath. “The last couple of years Josh was running with a bad crowd—pot growers, and not your home-garden variety either—the big guys—the guys who fund some of the little growers.” Jeb paused, putting his thoughts in order. “Josh,” he said eventually, “had always been a gambler, you know that, but about five years ago, with all the Indian casinos springing up all over the place, he really got into it. Lots of people from the valley saw him all over the place and carried back gossip of some big wins…and losses.” He made a face. “You know the valley. You can't spit without everyone noticing and a half dozen people saying that it's raining—people notice and they talk and they don't always get their stories straight. Anyway, the nearest casino is outside of Willits on 20—they're scattered all up and down every major highway in the state. Hell, there's one north of Ukiah and a big one over in Lake County and of course, a lot of people from the valley enjoy a night out and the chance maybe to win a little cash.” He smiled. “You know how it is—you can't leave the valley without running into someone from the valley—even as far away as Santa Rosa. And it wasn't like Josh was trying to hide it. He didn't. But my point is that just a few weeks before he started hanging out with the unsavory types, rumor had it that he'd taken some hard hits. Lost a
lot
of money. It could have been a coincidence that right after that, he and Milo Scott and Ben Williams are suddenly the best of friends.” Jeb grimaced. “I'm better acquainted with that pair of vermin than I'd like to be—the two of them are behind just about every dope deal in northern California, and when Josh started being seen around in their company…well, I'll confess it made me wonder.”