“Gone? But he just checked in this morning.” She narrowed her eyes. “What did you do, Aunt Gertie?”
“I didn’t do a thing. The man just didn’t fit well.”
“Didn’t fit well? What do you mean he didn’t fit well?”
“He was a smoker and much shorter than you.”
Reba shook her head hoping it would help her understand what her aunt was saying. “Okay, so I get we don’t let people smoke in the rooms, but they can smoke out in the garden or on the balconies. And what does being shorter than me have to do with anything?”
“Big women can intimidate small men.”
Reba struggled to understand what her aunt was saying. “Mr. Davenport said I intimidated him?”
“You intimidate a lot of men, Reba Gertrude. Which doesn’t make my job an easy one.”
“What job? What are you talking about?”
Without answering, Aunt Gertie turned her walker around. “Butler is tired. I think we’ll take a little nap before supper.”
Reba watched Aunt Gertie roll out of the kitchen and wanted to scream in frustration. After reading the love letter, she had almost felt sorry for her aunt. But it was hard to feel sorry for an ornery old woman who was going to ruin everything Reba had worked so hard for.
Chapter Eight
After he finished mowing and took a shower, Val had hoped to spend the rest of the afternoon working on his new book. Instead, he’d hopped on the Internet and started searching for information on Sam Sweeney. As a writer, Val was extremely good at doing research. Since his books usually had a detective who was trying to solve a murder, he had spent a lot of time talking to law enforcement agents on how they solved crimes and found suspects. His main source of information had been his friend Lincoln Hayes.
When Lincoln first came to the Double Diamond, he had been a tough, sullen teenager who had scared the hell out of Val. Big and muscular, Linc could fling a bale of hay onto a trailer with one hand, wrestle a steer to the ground, and shoot ten tin cans in a row off a fence with a pellet gun. Which had contributed to him becoming one damned good Texas Ranger. He was the one who had taught Val how to go about finding a missing person by looking through county records and social media.
But the technique didn’t seem to be working now.
Maisy was right. There didn’t seem to be a trace of Sam after he’d left the Double Diamond Ranch. No court appearances. No hospital admissions. No Facebook page. No obituary. The uneasy feeling in Val’s stomach intensified and he didn’t know why. There could be a lot of reasons he couldn’t find any information on Sam. He could’ve moved to Mexico or some other country. He could’ve changed his name. Or he could just be working on some Texas ranch with no Internet. But no matter how much he tried to rationalize, the uneasy feeling remained.
A knock sounded on the door, pulling him away from his search. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, surprised that it was already seven o’clock. He had wasted an entire afternoon on something that wasn’t even his business when he could’ve been writing. Which explained why he was so snappy when he pulled open the door and saw Reba standing there with a tray.
“I thought I told you that I didn’t need you to bring me dinner anymore.”
Her shoulders stiffened and she glared at him. “And I told you that it wasn’t a big deal if I didn’t have to make something special.”
He looked down at the food on the plate. “Steak? That was on the menu tonight?”
“It’s a special occasion . . . pumpkin harvest.”
His annoyance at the wasted afternoon evaporated, and he grinned. “Liar. This is a thank you for mowing your lawn and doing your dishes.”
She studied him. “Why did you?”
“It was my way of apologizing for running you even more ragged then you already are.” He shrugged. “I like to treat my slaves fairly.”
She bit back a smile. “Well, your slave appreciates it.”
“I appreciate you making me a special dinner.” He took the tray from her, noticing the white daisies in the vase. “Complete with flowers. I don’t think a woman has ever given me flowers before.” He leaned in and took a sniff, then wrinkled his nose.
She laughed. “Shasta daisies are pretty, but don’t smell the sweetest.”
“The flowers might not, but this steak does. I’m starving.”
She took a few