Free Yesterday's Lies by Lisa Jackson Page A

arthritic legs and wagged his tail before helping himself to Keith’s breakfast.
    “Serves him right,” Tory told the old dog as she petted him fondly and scratched Alex’s black ears. “I’m glad someone appreciates my cooking.”
    Tory heard Keith return to the kitchen. With a final pat to Alex’s head, she straightened and walked into the house.
    Keith was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking for all the world as if he would drop through the floor. He was holding the crumpled and now slightly blackened piece of paper in his hands and his face had paled beneath his tan. He set the paper on the table and smoothed out the creases in the letter. “Holy shit.”
    “My sentiments exactly.”
    “So how does he think you could help him?” Keith asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
    “I don’t know. We never got that far.”
    “And this—” he pointed down at the paper “—is why he wanted to see you?”
    “That’s what he said.”
    Keith closed his eyes for a minute, trying to concentrate. “That’s a relief, I guess.”
    Tory raised an inquisitive brow. “Meaning?”
    Keith smiled sadly and shook his head. “That I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
    “Don’t worry, brother dear,” she assured him with a slightly cynical smile, “I don’t intend to be. But thanks anyway, for the concern.”
    “I don’t want to be thanked, Tory. I just want you to avoid McFadden. He’s trouble.”
    Tory couldn’t argue the point. She turned on the tap and started hot water running into the sink. As the sink filled she began washing the dishes before she hit Keith with the other bad news. “Something else happened last night.”
    “I’m not sure I want to know what it is,” Keith said, picking up his coffee cup and drinking some of the lukewarm liquid. With a scowl, he reached for the pot and added some hot coffee to the tepid fluid in his cup.
    “You probably don’t.”
    He poured more coffee into Tory’s empty cup and set it on the wooden counter, near the sink. “So what happened?”
    “There was some other nasty business yesterday,” Tory said, ignoring the dishes for the moment and wiping her hands on a dish towel. As she picked up her cup she leaned her hips against the edge of the wooden counter and met Keith’s worried gaze.
    “What now?” he asked as he settled into the cane chair near the table and propped his boots on the seat of another chair.
    “Someone clipped the barbed wire on the northwest side of the ranch, came in and shot one of the calves. Three times in the abdomen. A heifer. About four months old.”
    Keith’s hand hesitated over the sugar bowl and his head snapped up. “You think it was done deliberately?”
    “Had to be. I called the sheriff’s office. They’re sending a man out this morning. Rex is spending the morning going over all of the fence bordering the ranch and checking it for any other signs of destruction.”
    “Just what we need,” Keith said, cynicism tightening the corners of his mouth. “Another crisis on the Lazy W. How’d you find out about it?”
    “One of Len Ross’s men noticed it yesterday evening. Len called Rex and he checked it out.”
    “What about the rest of the livestock?”
    “As far as I know all present and accounted for.”
    “Son of a bitch!” Keith forgot about the sugar and took a swallow of his black coffee.
    “Trask thinks it might be related to that,” she pointed to the blackened letter.
    “Trask thinks?” Keith repeated, his eyes narrowing. “How does he know about it?”
    “He was here when Rex came over to tell me about it.”
    Keith looked physically pained. “Lord, Tory, I don’t know how much more of your cheery morning news I can stand.”
    “That’s the last of the surprises.”
    “Thank God,” Keith said, pushing himself up from the table and glaring pointedly at his older sister. “You’re on notice, Tory.”
    She had to chuckle. “For what?”
    “From now on when I decide to stay on