Mead and Morgan did not reply, and Matthew finished his beer. Standing, he straightened his Stetson.
“You two have a good night,” he offered. “I’m going over to make sure Laurie’s all locked up for the night and then I’m going on home.”
“When you going to get that gal to marry you?” Mead almost demanded.
“I’m working on it,” Matt answered, walking away. Then he stopped and turned around. “What’s it to you, anyway? The both of you are pretty damn impatient, almost as though my marrying Laurie Dixon meant something more to you than seeing your little brother happy. Yup, the way you nag me and hound me don’t seem quite natural. That’s another thing I’m going to get to the bottom of.” Nodding once, he turned and walked away.
“Well hell,” Morgan sighed.
“My sentiments exactly,” Mead agreed, leaning back against the bar, watching his brother go through the batwing doors. “What are we going to do about this?”
“Damned if I know.”
“It appears we might have to tell him the truth. What do you think he already knows?”
“He knows about the grove,” Morgan replied. “I’ve been aware he’s been following me for quite some time. I just figured he’d tire of it and move on, to other things.”
“Guess not.”
“No, and he’s pretty convinced you never went to that fancy hospital. It stands to reason he’d be curious about your remarkable recovery. I just don’t know if we should tell him the truth.”
“It is my belief that the truth is almost always the best, but this is all so unbelievable he will think we’re lying in any case.”
“That’s true too,” Morgan agreed before moving off to serve customers.
Mead stood with his back to the bar and watched the girls, not speaking until Morgan resumed his stance behind the bar.
“Have you heard anything from Cara?” he asked, turning to meet Morgan’s worried gaze.
“Not really. She’s fit to be tied and not convinced we’ll be successful. In fact, she thinks we might be wrong about Laurie being the answer. What concerns me is that Cara is a woman who believes that if she wants something done right, she’s better off to do it herself.”
“Who’s Cara?” Callie asked, slipping out from behind Mead.
Both men looked at her without answering.
“You look as though you’ve been struck dumb,” she remarked smoothly. “Morgan, get me a drink.”
Reaching beneath the bar, he took a bottle of watered-down whiskey and silently poured her a shot. Picking up the glass, she gave a salute to a tall stranger standing down the bar before tossing it back.
“Put it on his tab.” Walking away, her hips swinging, she moved into the crowded barroom.
“What are you going to tell her?” Mead asked. “I don’t like that look in her eyes.”
“No, nor do I. She’s not one to let things go. Guess I could tell her Cara is my other wife, but somehow, I don’t think that will go down well,” Morgan sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“I hate this, Morg. One lie after another and it’s all beginning to catch up with us. I can’t see this ending well on our end, and even worse for Cara and Micah. They are the ones who stand to lose everything.”
Morgan poured Mead a shot of whiskey, which he tossed back immediately and grimaced. The brothers were silent for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Morgan who broke the silence.
“I think we need to talk to Matthew and come clean. He already knows too much, and his suspicions are growing daily. The last thing we need is for him to start going around town, asking questions and planting seeds of doubt in the minds of others.”
“I agree, and Lilly is a risk as well. She’s furious that she’s been caught and will have to stand trial as soon as the circuit judge comes through. She whispers into the ears of the women still frequenting her shop and it’s not helping. There are some in town who agree with her opinion of your wife and her girls. I believe she’s counting on a ‘jury of her peers’ and the more people she can convince that she’s somehow been maligned, the better her chances of getting off.”
“Bullshit! She’s guilty as hell, and everybody knows it. If she had her way, these girls would be working in a real whore house, kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder. We might never have found them. Marilee would be dead if she’d drunken another cup of Lilly’s ‘tea’.”
“Well, someone thought enough of Lilly to post her bail,” Mead pointed out.
“I’d love to know who.”
