Page 66 of Point of Mercy

Oh, to hell with it! He crushed the engraved sheet of paper in his fist and finished his beer. Then he picked up the phone and placed a long-distance call to the Lazy K Ranch. If Zeke wasn’t there, he’d track him down all across the damned country, and Mazie was going to help him. He needed answers. Answers he should have had six years before!

* * *

“Something’s wrong. Ifeel it,” Rachelle said as she eyed her reflection in a free-standing full-length mirror in the back room of the tiny chapel by the lake.

“You worry too much. Everything’s perfect.” Heather adjusted her sister’s veil and sighed. Rachelle looked beautiful. Her long auburn hair, trained into loose curls that fell to the middle of her back, shimmered beneath the beaded veil and her dress, off-white with a nipped waist, lace and pearl bodice and billowing skirt, fit her exquisitely.

“Heather’s right. You’re always borrowing trouble,” Carlie agreed. With sleek black hair and blue-green eyes, she smiled at her friend. What a fiasco Carlie’s arrival had caused just a few days before the wedding. Rachelle had insisted Carlie become part of the wedding party. Somehow the seamstress had made the gown,another usher, a cousin of Jackson’s, was fitted with a tuxedo and here she was, an encouraging smile in place.

“I don’t know.” Rachelle’s forehead was lined as she looked from her best friend to her sister. “I did something I shouldn’t have.”

“You invited Thomas Fitzpatrick,” Heather said.

“You knew?” Rachelle asked.

“It doesn’t take an investigative reporter, Rachelle. You gave me the invitations to mail.”

“Didn’t you tell Jackson?” Carlie asked.

“Not until last night.”

“And?”

“Let’s just say he didn’t jump for joy,” Rachelle said, though she laughed.

“That takes a lot of nerve.” Carlie tugged at her zipper, then smoothed her skirts.

“Or no brains,” Rachelle joked.

“Or both.” Heather tried to join in the fun. She wasn’t going to ruin Rachelle’s big day. She wasn’t! And yet she had trouble thinking of anything other than Turner.

“Okay, so I’ve bared my soul,” her sister said, eyes narrowing on Heather. “Now out with it. Something’s bothering you.”

“Nothing—really.”

“Adam’s okay?”

Heather managed a smile. “Adam’s great! Now he thinks he’s a cowboy.”

“Because of Turner.” Rachelle fiddled with the fasteners at her back. “Something’s not right. Can you get that—?” She held her hair and veil out of the way.

“Here. No problem.” Quickly Carlie took charge,hooking the fastener at Rachelle’s nape into place. “These are always a pain,” she said.

“You know about wedding dresses? Come on, Carlie. Were you married?”

For a second Carlie blanched but she recovered. “While I was modeling, I did a lot of bridal stuff.”

“I’ll just be glad when this is over.” Rachelle let her hair fall down her back again. She sent her sister a sidelong glance. “So tell me about Turner.”

“I don’t know if he’ll show up,” Heather hedged.

“Don’t tell me you broke up.” The dismay on Rachelle’s face cut Heather to the bone. Carlie, who’d caught up with the Tremont girls’ lives in the past three days knew most of the story.

“Don’t worry about Turner. We just had a little argument,” Heather lied, and hated the fact that, once again, because of Turner Brooks, she was stretching the truth. Her mother, bless her soul, had been right: one lie did beget another. She shrugged. “Really, that’s all.”

“It had better be,” Rachelle said, her lips tightening a bit.

With a sharp rap, the door flew open and Ellen stormed inside. “I can’t believe it! What was he thinking! That father of yours brought—”

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