Page 22 of Point of Mercy

Turner’s gut twisted. Heather didn’t run to the man’s open arms, but didn’t protest too much when he grabbed her and spun her off the ground. He caught her lips in a kiss and she pushed away.

So this was the man she was supposed to marry. Dennis something or other—Italian sounding, if he remembered right. His back teeth ground together and he wanted to wring the man’s neck. Turner started toward the couple, then thought better of it. What did he have to offer Heather? Nothing. But this guy—he could give her the world.

His mood as dark as the Porsche’s gleaming finish, Turner swung toward the ranch house, washed his hands in the basin on the back porch and, feeling dirt-poor and ranch-bred, dared walk into Mazie’s kitchen.

She was smoking at the table, going over some sort of list. “What’s on your mind, Turner?” she asked, eyeing his boots critically as if to make sure he didn’t drag any dirt or manure into her kitchen.

“Nothing.” He checked the cooler and found a bottle of beer. “Just a little thirsty,” he said, slamming the door shut and twisting off the top from his bottle.

“You don’t want to talk about anything?”

“Nah.” In the past, he’d confided in Mazie. She was kin and the only mother figure he could remember.Zeke’s wife had left him years before and eventually died and Turner’s mother had been killed when he was twelve. That left Mazie. His mother’s cousin. And a woman who had trouble keeping her mouth shut.

“Thinkin’ of movin’ on?”

Turner took a long pull on his beer. “In a couple of weeks.” Funny, the thought wasn’t as appealing as it had been. When his old man had been thrown into the slammer, Turner had sworn to leave the Lazy K as soon as his shoulder was well, but since he’d become involved with Heather… He glanced out the window and saw Heather and her boyfriend. They were standing several feet apart and she looked guiltily over her shoulder. The rich guy took a step toward her, but she held up her hand, said something and spun on her heel, running back to the house.

“You could stay on,” Mazie said, as she always did, and Turner barely heard her his heart was slamming so loudly.

“What? Nah. I don’t think so.”

“Zeke needs good hands.”

“Not me.” His heart was beating like a drum as the man, his face dark red with fury, climbed into his fancy car and started the engine. With a spray of gravel, the sleek car and its driver were gone. The front door slammed shut and quick footsteps pounded up the stairs. Heather!

“And you’d be closer to your ma’s place,” Mazie pointed out.

Turner didn’t look at her, could barely concentrate. She’d pushed the city boy out of her life! But why? For him? Pride mingled with self-disgust;he knew he would never be able to make her happy.

“Turner? You listening to me? I said ‘you’d be closer to your ma’s place!’”

Forcing his attention back to the conversation, Turner frowned and took a long swallow from his beer. While his mind was occupied with Heather, Mazie was talking about the run-down ranch where his father lived. Turner had grown up there and his father had rented the place from Thomas Fitzpatrick, a wealthy Gold Creek businessman who had gotten the ranch by some shady means. John Brooks had always wanted to own that miserable scrap of earth and when his wife had died, he’d managed to buy out Fitzpatrick with the life insurance proceeds coupled with a huge mortgage from the Bank of The Greater Bay.

Turner had done his best to pay off the mortgage. He scowled as he thought of it.

“Someday, son,” his father had told him when he was barely thirteen, “this will all be yours.” John Brooks had waved expansively to the acres of green grass and rolling hills. “And that’s the way your ma, rest her soul, would’ve wanted it. Oh, I know she took out that policy for you, so you could go to college, earn yourself a degree, but she would’ve known that you weren’t right for schoolin’, that you needed some land, some roots.” He’d slapped Turner on his shoulder. “That’s right, boy. Your ma, now she was a smart woman. Had her own degree, y’know. In music. Could’ve been a teacher, but she married me instead—and me, I wasn’t about to have my wife workin’ and supportin’ me. No way!” John had leaned over the fence rails, cradling a beer and smiling into the western hills.The tears in the corners of his eyes were probably from the intense light of the afternoon sun. Those telltale drops probably had nothing to do with remorse for being drunk behind the wheel of the pickup when it had rolled down an embankment, flipped over and killed his wife. “She would’ve wanted you to own something, kid, and there’s nothing more valuable than land. Yesirree, Margaret would’ve approved.”

Turner doubted it. He finished his beer in one long swallow and tossed the empty into the garbage can. In his peripheral vision, he caught Mazie studying him through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“It won’t work, y’know,” she said kindly, and in that instant he realized that she could read his mind. “She wants the fine things in life, has her sights set upon being an artist.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. I see the way you look at Heather when you think no one’s watchin’. And she feels the same. But it won’t last, son. Think of your poor ma—”

He rammed his hat back onto his head. “I’ll be leavin’ before the end of the month,” he said suddenly. “Don’t want to miss the final days of the rodeo season.” Without waiting for a reply, he headed back outside and refused to think about Heather. Mazie was right. Heather complicated his life, and right now he had more than his share of complications.

* * *

Heather couldn’t sleep.Dennis’s surprise visit had caught her off guard. He’d come hoping to patch things up and she’d had to be firm. She didn’t love him. Never had.Never would. She’d tried to be gentle, but he’d understood and he’d been angry when he’d left. Dennis Leonetti was used to getting what he wanted.

What had she ever seen in him? Compared to Turner…well, there was just no comparison. Sighing, she threw off her blankets and let the brisk night air that stole through the open window cool her body.

Her roommates didn’t share her problem with insomnia. They were all tucked under their covers, snoring softly, dreaming whatever dreams filled their heads. But Heather was restless. She tossed and turned.

Ever since the night she and Turner had made love, he’d been avoiding her. She was hurt, and the ache in her heart wouldn’t go away. Getting through the days had been difficult, and she’d just gone through the motions of her work. Mazie had been forced to scold her more than once and even Jill had noticed her bad mood. Sheryl hadn’t said a word, but her blue eyes had been filled with silent accusations.

All because of Turner.

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