Page 34 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter twenty-six

Eliana

Killian pulls away to take the animals to the ranch, and I go back to harvesting.

I’m at the height of the season right now.

The roses and mint are ready to be cut again.

Some lavender is ready, while I’m still waiting on other herbs to get to the point where they are potent enough for healing.

All of this information was taught to me as a child.

Passed down from Greer to Greer. Gardening, healing, is in my blood.

It’s time to harvest the oregano, one of the best natural antibiotics out there.

Today, with the use of technology, we’ve learned that it can be even more powerful than penicillin.

It can cure all kinds of bacterial ailments fairly quickly.

It’s a big seller, especially for young kids, in case they get an infected cut or bacterial infection.

The shotgun keeps bumping me in the back, and I force myself not to get annoyed by it because despite my front I put on to Killian, I am scared. But I don’t want to be. This is my home. No one is going to run me from it.

It is not your home he is after. The Spirits say.

I ignore them and the sense of paranoia sitting on my shoulders and keep working. Sweat drips down my neck, and my thighs strain, but I keep focusing on my work in an attempt to bury what happened this morning. I hate feeling like prey. Even with Killian behind me, I wanted to run.

There are things we are built to sense, like evil. I could feel it this morning. As if Satan himself were staring right at me, grinning like he can’t wait to snatch me up. And I know better. There are things that can do that.

I stand up straight, relieving my back, and toss the bunch of oregano in my hand into a basket. Feet crunch on gravel, and I spin around to face it, grabbing the butt of my gun and aiming.

“Whoa, ma’am,” Wyatt says with his hands up.

I groan and drop the gun, spinning it back around to rest between my shoulder blades. I’m not even sure how I did that so fast.

My shoulders drop, and I scan Wyatt. “Sheriff,” I mumble and lean back down to cut more oregano.

“Ms. Greer, I was wondering if you could answer a few more questions for me?” he asks.

I stand back up and toss the herbs. “What other questions could you possibly have for me?” I ask him.

I’m done with the Southern hospitality. I don’t want him here, and he still gives me an uneasy feeling.

Maybe it’s the grief, maybe it’s because I can’t pin him down. All I know is I want him off my land.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you without my guard dog cousin telling you what to say,” he says.

I huff and lift my hat from my head so he can see my eyes. “Killian didn’t tell me to say anything.”

Be careful, child. The Spirits tell me.

“So when did you two start seeing each other?” he asks.

“Why do you need to know?” I snap back while running through my mind what we told him earlier. The last thing Killian needs is for either of us to be caught in a lie. It will surely make him look guilty, and I’ll be an accessory after the fact.

“I’m trying to establish a better timeline,” he says, staring at me a little too hard.

My hands shake, so I focus on harvesting the rest of my oregano, hoping he doesn’t notice.

I get a whiff of peppermint, willing it to calm me down.

“Our relationship isn’t anyone’s business.

Especially in this damn town where everyone knows everything,” I say, hoping he takes that as an answer. I don’t remember what I said to him.

You said you’ve been seeing each other for a few months. The Spirits say.

“Well, in this case, it is,” Wyatt pushes.

I sigh and snip a couple of stems. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months, happy?” I snarl.

“That’s surprising to me because Killian didn’t say a word about it.”

I toss the herbs again and move down to the mint with the next basket. Sweat gathers at my spine, and it’s not because it’s hot. “Maybe because it was none of your business,” I mutter.

“So before he found the woman on his property?” Wyatt asks.

He’s already asked these questions, so why is he asking them again?

“It would seem that way, wouldn't it?” I say with as much attitude as I can infuse into my tone. I shouldn’t be trying to piss off the Sheriff, but old habits die hard.

I know what the town thinks of me, so why would I think he believes anything different?

I noticed the way looked at me while I was sitting on Killian’s lap.

He was a cross between disgusted and deeply confused. Well, he can bite me.

“And would you say you’re serious?” he asks.

That makes me pause. Why in the world would that matter for a murder investigation? I force myself to continue snipping the stems of the mint without giving myself away. These questions are freaking me out.

“Very, I’d say we’re nearly in love,” I mumble.

He’s silent for a moment. I glance up under the brim of my hat, and nothing but shock covers his face until his expression goes serious.

“Did you find fresh evidence?” I ask him point blank.

He remains impassive, and that pisses me off.

He ignores my question and fires one back. “And where were you this morning?” he asks.

I stand up and glare at him. “Why?” I ask.

“I came by earlier and no one seemed to be home,” he says.

My throat tightens, and my heart thuds in my chest. This feels wrong.

“I must have still been asleep,” I tell him. My gut tells me not to tell him where I was.

“You must go to bed real early because you weren’t here last night either,” Wyatt says.

Why in the world was he here last night too? Was he checking up on me?

“Alright, well, thank you for your time.”

I don’t respond.

He tips his hat and saunters out of my garden down the driveway.

“What are we missing?” I whisper.

We are not sure. The Spirits say.

“Is it him?” I ask them.

No answer.

I drop my scissors and will my hands to stop shaking. It feels like I nearly escaped my own death today.