The sheriff moved in.“Jack … what happened here?”
Shea watched Jack Randall hesitate, look around frantically, as if searching for something that would bring back the memory.“I … don’t know.”
Dewayne shook his head.“Try to remember.Who shot you?”
Jack Randall closed his eyes.“I’m … trying.I remember … looking for … my daughter.Coming back.Nothing more.”Shea saw him clench his teeth and knew he was in pain.She looked up at the sheriff, who looked thoroughly frustrated.
Dewayne tried again.“Jack, this all started with those first robberies.Then the killing of the miners.There’s some connection.Help me, dammit.”
Shea watched her father struggle.She didn’t think he was faking.He seemed genuinely confused.“I just … don’t remember.”He looked up again at Shea, his gaze devouring her.“Shea,” he whispered again.“My daughter.”He moved his hand slightly toward her, and Shea found herself taking it, tightening her fingers around his, feeling his respond, clinging to her almost desperately.
Then he looked toward the sheriff.“I’m … sorry, Russ.I just … remember riding toward the ranch.…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes closed, his breathing becoming steady again.
Shea kept holding his hand, holding on to that tenuous connection to her father.Her father.He had been looking for her.He wanted her.His eyes had told her that.
She looked down at the pale face, at the now-closed eyes, and she shook with the realization she was a part of this man.There were so many things she wanted to know.So many questions to ask.So many answers she needed.
Not the least among them his involvement in the robbery so many years ago.His face was not evil.His eyes had not been devious.
Rafe had to be wrong!
Dewayne stood.“Hell, that’s it,” he said, then looked at the two women.“Begging your pardon.”Kate just smiled, but Shea couldn’t.She was too tied up in knots to do anything but look at him helplessly.
“I’ve waited long enough,” he said.“I’m putting together a posse and combing these canyons if it takes me a year.God knows what happened here, and I’m not sure Jack will be able to help anytime soon.”
Clint had been lounging along a wall, watching with intense interest.Shea’s gaze went to him and met his quick glance.There was neither approval in it nor disapproval.
“You going after McClary?”he said lazily.
“Him and those damned outlaws who’ve been deviling Randall,” Russ said.“McClary could be dead or kidnapped himself.It’s time I got some answers.”His gaze went again to Shea, and he was frowning.Shea realized he hadn’t swallowed her story.He turned back to Clint.
“Where exactly did you find Miss Randall?”
“Around Rushton Creek, near Casey’s old strike,” he said.“I was looking for signs of McClary.”
“You think he’s around the creek?”
“That’s where the last miner was killed,” Clint said.
“You still think …”
Clint nodded.“McClary was gone each time a miner was killed.Now he’s disappeared again.”
“I wish I could be so certain,” the sheriff said.“But that doesn’t explain the other robberies.There were at least six men involved, and two occurred before Sam McClary arrived.”
Clint shrugged.“Before he publicly arrived,” he corrected.
Russ nodded.“That could be.Yet my gut tells me something else.Someone had it in for Randall, and I don’t think it’s someone he would invite into his home.Damn, I wish he could remember something.…”
“The doctor said we could expect this,” Clint reminded him.“He might or might not remember certain things.”
Russ nodded.“We’ll be leaving in the morning, if you change your mind and want to join us, Clint.”
Clint shook his head.“I think I’m needed here.”
“Nate’s here,” Russ said pointedly.
“Nate can’t take care of the herd alone,” Clint said.“Just about everyone else has left, and whoever did this might come back.”
