Ladd Springs (Ladd Springs, Book #1) (10 page)

Ernie
hated Gerald because he thought he’d sullied his sister’s honor by taking Susannah
before she was married. Ernie believed it to be true, because he had watched
the two spend hours upon hours together, hiking the trails, taking picnics by
the river. But Susannah and Gerald were never more than friends. God knows
Ashley had tried to convince Susannah otherwise. Gerald was a good man, a
loving man. Unlike Harry Wilkins, he would have devoted his time and attention
to her. But Susannah could be stubborn as a goat with a tin can, and when she
wanted who she wanted, she was going to have him, whether her best friend and
brother approved or not. Susannah and Harry were married on her eighteenth
birthday. Gerald went on to marry a pretty society girl from Chattanooga, and the
two had four sons, all of them wild and wooly and socially unacceptable, much
to their mother’s distress.

But
Ernie held the grudge to this day. Because Delaney had married a Foster, she
was to be forsaken. Muttering incoherently, he chewed on the end of his pipe.

“Delaney
hasn’t done a thing to you, and it’s not right for you to hold your silly feud against
her.”

“Money.
That’s what she’s after.”

“She
doesn’t want your money,” Ashley said heatedly, answering him with a dismissive
shake of her head. “This is about doing what’s right. You and I both know what
happened the night of Susannah’s death, there’s no denying it. Now I don’t know
about you, but I believe in the sparkle and glitter of heaven and I have every
intention of trotting through those pearly gates in my best boots and
rhinestones. Whether you believe the way I do, or simply think you’re going to
rest in peace once you cross the threshold, either way, you’re slapping a lock
on those beautiful gates if you go back on your promise to Susannah.”

Ernie
grimaced.

“Think
of Felicity,” she implored him. “That girl adores you, Ernie. She’s willing to look
past your crusty exterior and see the beauty in you. Plays like an angel for
you, too.”

Anger
sparked life into his demeanor. “You leave her out of this.”

“I
won’t. She wants to play in the symphony, but she can’t if she can’t make it
through college.” Ashley could see that talk of Felicity softened him, as she knew
it would. “She spends night after night playing for you and this is how you pay
her back?”

“It’s
her mother that’s the problem,” he replied gruffly. “If she made better
decisions, she’d be able to pay for Felicity’s schoolin’ and not put her
through hard times.”

“Delaney
is a fine mother—don’t you go disparaging her,” Ashley said, pointing a
bejeweled finger at him, the ten carat faux diamond sparkling even in this poor
excuse for light. “She’s even agreed to put the title in Felicity’s name to
prove it to you.”

He
glanced away. “Cuz she’s manipulatin’ the poor child.”

“The
only one around here doing any
manipulatin
’,” she mimicked, “is you. And
I’m high tired of it. You’re going to do what’s right and I’m going to see to
it.” She thrust a hard eye at him and said, “We
both
made promises to
Susannah that night, and I intend to see mine through.”

Ashley
stood. He acknowledged her movement and she returned a withering gaze. She was
finished here. “I have a mind to talk to that sweet child and tell her not to
step another foot in this cabin to play her flute for you, the way you’re
treating her.”

“What?”
he cried, and shot forward in his chair.

“You
heard me.” Ashley knew what the evenings meant to him. They were his only
reprieve, his only escape from his dreary existence. They allowed him to
remember brighter days, days spent with Susannah, when she used to sing to him.
By the creek, alone on horseback, when they were young, she would sing him calm
like a lullaby-soothed baby. Susannah knew how to keep her brother on the
straight and narrow. She kept him in school and kept him from drinking. Like a
puppy dog-in-training, Susannah gave Ernie heaps of love, but followed through
with a stern command when he strayed off course.

“You
can’t do that,” Ernie rebuked, but his voice cracked.

“I
can and I will. You sign on the dotted line or that sweet thing will get an
ear-full from me.”

Ernie
looked like an angry possum, an animal that knew it had been cornered and had
only one card left to play. “You’re a mean-spirited woman, Ashley Fulmer. You’re
a selfish, no-good backstabber.”

“I’m
doing what needs to be done.”

“You
never did like me,” he muttered.

“My
feelings for you are irrelevant at the moment. Susannah loved you with all her
heart.” Ashley’s heart squeezed as memory cut deep. “She looked up to you,
treated you like you were her savior. The least you could do is act like it.”

Tears
misted his eyes and he brought a hand to forehead, rubbing the papery, blotchy skin.
If she let herself, Ashley could feel sorry for him. But the way he was
treating Susannah’s daughter and granddaughter prohibited any such compassion. She
took a step toward the door, careful not to let her skirt catch on the sofa
table. “You let me know when you’ve come to your senses,” she ordered
matter-of-fact, indicating the document she’d signed for Delaney. “Tonight’s
only the beginning of your problems, you keep up this nonsense.”

Chapter Ten

Sitting
on the edge of her bed, Delaney slipped the small camera into her backpack and
zipped it closed, her fingers more jittery than she cared to think about. Pulse
running on high speed, she chalked it up to adrenaline rush. She wasn’t kidding
herself. Gathering photographic evidence could prove risky. But without it her
word against Clem’s would be tossed aside like a cigarette butt. She needed to
stake out a claim of her own—a witness claim.

Rising,
she flicked off the lights and headed out. Two water bottles, a granola bar and
flashlight—she was prepared to wait the men out, if need be. She had no reason
to believe they wouldn’t. Delaney’s instincts hummed. If she knew Clem, he’d
loot that gold as fast as he could.

And
she had all day to get her proof. Felicity had stayed over at her girlfriend’s
last night and planned to spend the day with them, which meant Delaney didn’t
have to be home until supper time. Slinging the canvas pack over her shoulder,
she walked toward her bedroom door and caught a glimpse of her reflection. She
stopped, and zeroed in. She looked tense, edgy. The lines around her mouth were
set hard, her eyes filled with trepidation. She looked worried. A half laugh
escaped her lips and her heart thumped. She looked
scared
, is what she
looked.

Kicking
her legs into motion, Delaney brushed the thought aside. There was no room for
fear. No reason to fear. She knew these woods like the back of her hand, could
travel trails and cliffs like a deer, warding off trouble with the barrel of her
gun. When she wanted to be, Delaney could be as stealth and lethal as a rattler
or as fierce as a mama bear. There was nothing to fear. Besides, she didn’t
intend for them to see her. This mission was about her seeing them—photographing
the men as proof for Ernie. And there was no better proof than a full-color
image.

Locking
the door behind her, she went in pursuit of her mare.

Sitting
in the lobby of the town’s premier hotel, the lunch crowd thinning around him,
Nick prepared to call his partner. Avoiding it any longer would only strain
their relationship and that was a strain he didn’t need. Malcolm Ward was an
integral part of his empire. Nick would need him to see this project through. An
elegantly dressed brunette caught his eye as she walked by, her smile a shade
too intimate for strangers. Pushing back against the cushion, he returned the
gesture.

Dialing
Malcolm’s number, Nick ran through his options as he waited through several rings.
He could begin the negotiating process for the land south of here, but it
lacked the privacy of being bordered by the USFS. It had streams and rivers,
but none of the springs. There was another piece up in Carolina he could look
into but, although it had waterfalls and forest, it too lacked the added beauty
of open meadows and of course, the natural springs.

Serenity
Springs was the spa he wanted to create, and that meant he needed Ladd land. According
to local lore, the springs on the Ladd property were not only numerous, but said
to be speckled with gold flecks. Gold flecks that sparkled in the crystal clear
spring water when captured in a glass and held up to the sunlight. He grinned. Whether
he believed the legend or not was irrelevant. Transforming the springs into
wishing wells and refreshment spots along his Meditation Trail would pay
tenfold what any glittery water amusement would do for him. He called them his
contemplation spots, where guests could stop and enjoy a spectacular view or
immerse themselves in the peace of solitude.

As
he was about to hang up the line, a voice shouted, “Nick—where’ve you been? I’ve
been calling you for two days!”

Pleased
to hear the manic voice, he replied smoothly, “I’ve been scouting for property.
What’s up?”

“What’s
up?” came the incredulous reply. “You were supposed to close this deal a week
ago, that’s what’s up. What’s the delay?”

“I
ran into a couple of obstacles.” An ornery old man, a beautiful woman, and a
darling young teenager—none of which mattered to Malcolm. His partner wanted
results. “But I’m making progress.”

“You
better be. I’ve got investors breathing down my neck for information. They’re
threatening to pull out—”

“What?
Why? If it’s not this property, it will be another.”

“They
have other prospects.”

Other
prospects? As soon as he thought it, Nick realized who he meant. He should have
stayed away from Jillian Devane— CEO of Eco-Domani, his fiercest competitor in
the eco-resort market and a woman with a vendetta deeper than money. Aggravation
stirred in his gut. She was nothing but trouble. “How’s she courting them this
time?”

“Appalachian
Gold.”

Nick
groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wish
I was, but she thinks she’s going to beat you to the punch.”

Jillian
was more than a beautiful woman. She was a brilliant hotelier, with a chain of
hotels that rivaled any in the market—except his. When it came to innovative
energy consumption, recycled building materials and straight up creative use of
land and space, the designers at Harris Hotels consistently stayed one step
ahead of Eco-Domani. They rocked the tourist industry with each and every hotel
opening, and Jillian was more than envious. She was vindictive. They had an
affair, but she’d wanted to take it one step further and combine their
resources for an Eco-Domani/Harris hotel empire, solidifying the deal with
marriage. But he’d refused and things got ugly. A rueful smile pulled at his
lips. Things didn’t get really bad until he walked away from her body as well. A
hot-blooded Latina from a wealthy family, nobody walked away from Jillian
Devane. Nobody.

“I’ll
take care of it,” Nick said into the phone.

“You
better. I hear they’re working on a deal in the Smoky Mountains as we speak.”

Plagued
by the familiar mix of lust-filled admiration for the woman and his own gritty
resolve, Nick vowed he would not be beat. Jillian would not lure his investors
from this project. She would not open her doors before he did. He’d walked away
from the fight once. He wouldn’t do so again. “Call Belinda and get her working
on those drawings we discussed. Have her call me when she has some sketches. Tell
her I’ll email some photos this afternoon.”

“Will
do.”

Nick
ended the call and wound his brain around the next step. Time for another visit
to Ladd Springs.

After
securing Sadie at the trailhead, Delaney set out on the trail. It was warmer
today, breezy in the field as she rode over, but air flow didn’t make it this
far in. Here it was quiet, still. Dressed in her customary tank top, jeans and
boots, she was comfortable. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, the
length of it long and loose down her back. Trees were an assortment of dark
trunks, narrow and thick. Leaves floated from branches and hovered high and
low, reducing visibility to mountain walls and the expanse of the valley
between. Delaney scanned the perimeter of green and brown, the spots dappled
with light, but stopped suddenly. Was that a voice she heard?

Standing
completely still, she strained to listen. In the distance, she heard the low
drum of waterfalls. Faint, but she recognized it. Her breathing grew shallow,
her mind laser sharp. Other than that, there was nothing. Satisfied all was
well, she slid the pack onto her back and continued forward, forcing herself to
lighten her stride. No pounding—no branch breaking—she had to remain
undetected. When she neared the location, she paused, and listened. She
searched trees and brush for signs of movement. Nothing.

Surveying
the area around the trail, she found a winding path that went up a nearby
slope. Gauging the angle, she decided it would provide her best vantage point. She’d
be able to see them, but they shouldn’t be able to see her. Lifting a boot to a
jutting rock, she scaled the steep incline and wedged herself between a rock and
a tree stump, split in half by either lightning or old age. Settling in, she
took out her camera, looped the strap around her neck and prepared to wait.

An
hour into her wait, she crumpled the granola wrapper and stuffed it back into
her backpack. “Leave no trace behind” was her motto in the forest. Scrolling
through the last of her emails, she heard them. Gripping the smartphone, she switched
it to vibrate and slipped it into a pocket of her backpack. She held her breath
and watched the infamous duo advance. Their voices carried easily in the
silence and she heard one tell the other, “I know, I got it.” He rummaged
through the sack he carried and raised the small tool. It looked to be an axe
or blunt-edged hoe of some kind. Anger welled. To steal more gold, no doubt.

Delaney
brought the camera to her face and peered through the viewfinder. Standard fare
when it came to cameras, it lacked a powerful zoom, but would have to do. She toggled
the tab to bring them into view as magnified as possible.

They
were plain looking. The big one hadn’t shaved, the smaller no need, scraggly
tufts of hair clumped about his chin. He wore a hat and a ragged plaid shirt. The
other had on a simple red shirt and both wore jeans. She clicked off a few
shots, then drew the camera away for a direct look at the men. Lowlifes, to be
sure. Neither looked like they had a brain cell to work from or a dime to their
name—if the dirty clothes were any clue. Delaney moved position slightly to
gain a better view. The thinner man wasted no time in wielding his axe against
the rock.

Chling,
chling
.
The high-pitched sound carried through the trees. With each swing, Delaney
seethed. How much were they taking? Were they doing so at Clem’s orders? Were
they giving it to him? Taking it for their own?

So
many unanswered questions. So much she had to capture. She raised the camera to
her eye. So far away. She snapped a few shots and analyzed them on the tiny
screen. Zipping through them, she deemed none were clear enough, specific
enough. Delaney looked up.

She
had to get closer.

Setting
a hand to the tree, she carefully eased her way out of position, one eye on the
men as she felt her boots make contact with the ground. Gingerly she moved down
the trail on her haunches. Obscured by a cluster of huge trees, their leaves
and branches providing adequate coverage, she scoped the area for potential
hiding places. The gold was on the opposite side of the rock. If she could make
her way over to the far ledge, she might have a chance at getting a picture of
them chipping away at the stone. Which is what she needed—proof they were
stealing from Ladd property.

Delaney
treaded lightly up the trail, her back to the mountain behind her, staying
vigilant for signs of detection. Though she was probably being overly cautious.
The two fools were more concerned with their theft than getting caught. As she
made her way higher, the trail curved downward, and below she noted a ditch of
sorts. A ravine. A slow smile pulled at her lips. It would serve as the perfect
cover in case of emergency.

“Lookee
here,” one of the men exclaimed.

Delaney
froze and looked to see what he meant.

“That’s
a big one,” replied the other.

The
smaller fellow was holding up what she had to assume was a gold nugget. Anger
fired in her belly. She lifted camera to her eye and angled her body around the
shelter of leaves to capture the best shot. She clicked, but the man leaned down,
then stood up again. Peering through her camera lens, she tried to center the
moving figure within her sights.
Click, click, click.
She did the best
she could to get a good shot of his face.

A
branch cracked. Delaney ducked.

Her
pulse pounded as she searched the area. Where had the noise come from? Was it
the men? The fall of a decayed branch?

Neither
of them seemed to pay the noise heed, continuing with their work. Their work! Stealing
is what they were doing and she had a mind to stop them right now. Shoot the
both of them and ask questions later. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t solve her problem.
Clem Sweeney had to be stopped—sooner rather than later.

Her
only hope was to do so through these two.

Lowering
the camera, Delaney moved over a fallen tree trunk, careful not to step on a
branch and bring attention to herself. While they hadn’t minded the last pop
and crash, she didn’t want to chance it. Working her way closer until she was
about ten yards from the men, she tucked herself away in the ditch, close
enough to see their faces. Instinctively, she recorded them to memory. Thin
build, pointed nose, jutting chin, jerky movements. Round face, bulbous nose,
broad shoulders, curly black hair, definitely the one in charge. Delaney
wondered where Clem knew them from, how he signed them on to this scheme of
his. Holding the camera steady, the zoom feature maxed out, she snapped photos
in rapid succession. The larger man drank from a Thermos. A familiar ringtone
rose from her backpack.

His
hand froze. Her heart stopped. His head turned in her direction.