Page 21

“Izzy was playing.”

“Yes.”

“Somebody said to move the girl.”

“Which girl?”

Jesse’s stomach tightened. He pictured a hand pointing past the card table, dark hair near the piano, then another face. Adaya? He couldn’t make either stay where it belonged.

“I don’t know.”

“Then leave it for now.”

“No.”

He pressed his left hand into the mattress. The remembered sounds returned in broken pieces: a glass shattering, the piano stumbling, a stranger saying Pickett. Another voice mentioned land.

“Sell,” Jesse said.

Nate’s chair creaked. “What?”

“Something about selling. Water.”

“Did they threaten the ranch?”

Jesse tried to follow the voice back into the dark hall. A man laughed. The silver tooth flashed. He heard young one and if he dies but could not tell who had spoken or whom he meant.

Pain drove through his temple. Jesse caught the edge of the mattress as the room lurched.

Nate steadied his shoulder. “That’s enough. You can tell me more when your head settles.”

“Need to remember.”

“You’ve already given us something.”

Jesse drew a shallow breath. “Don’t tell Bass.”

“Jesse—”

“He’ll ride after them.”

“Whit is handling it.”

“Bass won’t care who’s handling it.”

Nate’s hand remained on his shoulder. “No one is riding anywhere tonight.”

Jesse wanted to believe him. Instead, he pictured Bass saddling a horse before dawn, with Beau following and Simon finding some fool reason to go along.

“I should’ve told Whit what I heard.”

“When?” Nate asked. “Before those men beat you senseless?”

Jesse flinched.

Nate rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. That was poorly said.”

“I could’ve done something.”