A Second-Chance Proposal

Dylan took a chest-expanding breath. “He’s hitting her.”

The stark, simple statement pierced the afternoon quiet. “I know. I saw some bruises on her leg when her housecoat shifted.” They’d been the multicolored kind, ugly and raw-looking. At the time, Cathleen hadn’t been sure what could have caused such an injury. Now she was.

“I wanted to pick her up and carry her out of that house,” Dylan said.

“That wouldn’t work. Rose has to want to leave.”

“I know.”

“When did the abuse start, do you think?”

Dylan frowned. “I was sixteen when they married and I left home at eighteen. During those years I was so busy fighting with Max I didn’t pay much attention to how he was getting along with my mother. She always backed him whenever we had a disagreement, so I guess I assumed she was happy in her marriage. I’m almost positive he wasn’t hurting her then.”

Dylan had told her about those days before, but he’d glossed over the bad parts. “Why do you think Max disliked you so much?”

“I used to ask myself that question all the time. He’d criticize everything about me, from the way I rode a horse to the way I fed the cattle… Finally, I realized there was just no winning with him. Once I gave up caring, it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

“And that’s when I started feeling more sorry for James than I did for myself. Max didn’t fight with his own son the way he did me, but he was always belittling and caustic, which in a way must’ve been worse. Especially since James tried so hard to please the son of a gun.”

Cathleen knew the situation had been bad enough that after grade twelve graduation, Dylan had been more than ready to move out and rent a place of his own. At first his plan had been to keep working at the Thunder Bar M, but the fighting between him and Max had made that impossible. Eventually he’d been forced to accept a foreman position on a property about fifty kilometers closer to Calgary.

“Max has always been domineering,” Cathleen said, remembering the few social occasions when she and Dylan had been invited to dine at the ranch. “But your mother seemed to take his demanding ways in stride.”

“I guess she was used to having a strong husband. She and Dad had a traditional marriage. When it came to ranch business, his word was law in our house. But he really loved her, and at heart had a real gentleness. Max, unfortunately, hasn’t got a soft side. At least not that I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s been a controversial mayor, but he has his loyal supporters.”

“Yeah, I bet he does. People with an eye on profits rather than the future of the land.” Dylan planted the heels of his cowboy boots into the planks of the porch and started his chair rocking. “But you raise a good point. With Max’s stature in this town, I’m going to have a hell of a time convincing the law that he was responsible for Jilly’s death.”

“I know you hate him, and I know you have your reasons. But how can you be so sure that he was the one who shot her?”

Dylan laughed bitterly. “I’ve had two years to mull this over. Ask yourself two questions. Who benefited when that demonstration broke up? And who had the most to gain by framing me for the crime?”

“I know Max had his motives. And I admit he’s a bully capable of violence. But would he really stoop to murder? I think we need to find out more about him. His past, before he married your mother.”

“Darlin’, I couldn’t agree more.”

Cathleen thought a moment. “Maureen might be able to help.” Her elder sister, recently widowed, was going through a bad patch right now, but as a lawyer she’d have the kind of connections they’d need.

Dylan stopped rocking. He leaned forward, his arms on his thighs. “You figure she’d talk to me if I phoned her?”

Maureen, like Kelly, could be very protective. And strong willed. Hanging up on Dylan wouldn’t be beyond her. “Maybe I should call her first.”

“And would you come to Calgary with me?”

Oh Lord. She’d virtually trapped herself into saying yes. “You’ve got to understand this is all about proving what really happened to Jilly.”

“In other words, you’re not just looking for excuses to spend time with me.”

“You wish.”

“Damn right I do.” Dylan’s gray eyes lost their twinkle. “But for now, it’s all about that night in Thunder Valley.”

If only he’d thought this way two years ago! But it was too late now for regrets. “Who else was there, Dylan? You and your cousin Jake. And, of course, Max and his son, and Jilly and her father. Do I know any of the others?”

“You do. Hang on a minute. They published a list in the Leader. I have it in my pack.”

Dylan went into the house and came back with two coffees as well as a sheet of folded paper. “I already added cream,” he said, passing her one of the mugs and then half sitting on the white railing next to her.

“Thanks.” For a disorienting moment, she remembered what it had felt like to be part of a couple who’d been together long enough to be aware of each other’s tastes and preferences. She knew, for instance, that Dylan’s coffee was black. Without checking, she could’ve identified the label on his jeans, his shirt, his cowboy hat…

“I could read you the names, but you might as well look this over yourself.” He handed her the fragile, yellowed paper. She unfolded it once, twice, then ran an eye down the typed names. Heading the list was Max Strongman, followed by his son, James.

“Max was entertaining some of the oil company officials that afternoon, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, at a big Western-style barbecue. Conrad Beckett and his daughter were there, as well as several other executives from Beckett Oil and Gas.” Dylan pointed to their names, then trailed his finger down the list. “A couple of bankers and a representative from an accounting firm in Calgary.”

“Where was your mother?” Cathleen wondered, not seeing any mention of Rose.

“Inside the kitchen, helping the caterer make salads, stuff like that. When our group showed up, she came outside briefly, but Max ordered her back into the house.”

Cathleen could well imagine. “And the group you’d gotten together…?”

“An ad hoc thing, as you know. Jake was with me, of course, along with a few of his buddies who care pretty deeply about protecting the wildlife corridor along the Bow River. I also had some ranchers organized….”

She knew, or had heard of, most of these people. One name stood out. “Mick Mizzoni was there, too?”

“Yeah. I thought he might give us some favorable coverage in the Leader. Little did I guess just how big the story was going to be.”

Cathleen counted. Thirty-one people. “If only just one of them had been watching the right person at the right time…”

“‘If only’ can be a dangerous game to play. It can make a man crazy, if he lets it.”

She twisted to see his eyes more clearly. Over the years she’d learned to read the moods implicit in their almost infinite shades of gray. She’d seen them twinkle like polished silver when he was happy, or turn as cloudy as nearby Lac des Arc during spring runoff when he was sad. Now their dark hue told her he was serious.

“I suppose you regret going out to the ranch that night.”

“I regret a hell of a lot more than that.” He focused on her. “I shouldn’t have left the way I did, Cathleen. I never wrote, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you. I did. Every day. Almost every second, it felt like sometimes.”

“You apologized last night,” she reminded him, lowering her head to catch a perfect view of the floorboards she’d stained by hand two years ago. She counted the knots rather than focus on how deeply felt Dylan’s words sounded.

“Yeah, but I made a mess of it. I was nervous.”

“You?” Never had she known a man with Dylan’s confidence.

“Hard to imagine, huh?” He stretched out his legs till his boots touched the bottom rung of the stairs. “But it happens to be true. Want to know something else that’s true?”

She shook her head, but he answered, anyway. “I still love you, darlin’. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.”