Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch by Darlene Franklin Page A

Cord’s endless bragging on the subject—that the furniture was made with genuine bison leather. “Best thing for the buffalo,” he insisted. “If we domesticate them and raise them for commercial use, they’ll never suffer extinction.” He had a point, but I found the atmosphere forbidding. So did Audie, who looked as out of place as the Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur’s court.
    “Did he kill all those animals?” Audie asked. He studied the placard beneath the head of an eight-point stag. “First kill.”
    I nodded. “He bragged about that deer for weeks. He was only thirteen at the time.”
    I hurried into the kitchen, where the gentle spirit of Cord’s mother still made itself felt in warm yellow curtains and stoneware mugs. I lit a fire under the kettle and headed for the pantry in search of teabags and coffee.
    Audie followed me in. “You seem familiar with the place.”
    “I should.” I frowned. “I’ve been in and out of here since I was a kid.” I found the coffee, Cord’s favorite, a dark French roast, and started the coffee maker.
    “Not much choice of tea,” I said. “Orange pekoe. Some herbal teas that look like they’re years old. There is some hot cocoa mix if you want it.”
    “I’ll wait for the coffee.” Audie picked out a plain blue mug and held it between his hands.
    “I see you made yourself at home.” Cord came in through the back door and hung his wet things on a peg like he had when we were children.
    I opened the cookie jar, a pottery cow that Cord had given his mother one Christmas, and found what I expected. Chocolate chip cookies that Cord made from frozen dough he bought at the store.
    Cord poured himself a cup of coffee. “Sit down. To what do I owe the honor of your company today?” His eyes darted in Audie’s direction.
    What should I say?
    Audie surprised me by taking the lead.“We overheard part of your conversation with Reiner today.”
    “Oh, which part was that? When he practically accused me of shooting Penn on purpose? Or when he said my cattle had mad cow disease?” Cord grimaced. “Stupid man. I can’t believe he asked me in public like that. Just the hint of mad cow could ruin me. Rumors like that spread like a grass fire.”
    “But they’re healthy?” What if the rumors were true? My family’s ranch shared a boundary with the Circle G. How did it spread? Silly girl. I stopped myself from chasing tumbleweed thoughts.
    “Of course they are.” Cord looked hurt at the slight suggestion of my suspicion. He bit off half a cookie, chewed it, and then swallowed. “Look, this is what happened. You know that I traded breeding bulls with a cooperative in Britain a couple of years back. Penn found out that some cattle in the district where the cooperative is located came down with mad cow. He said that my herds might have contracted the disease.” Cord shook his head.
    “Did he blackmail you? What did he want?”
    “Nothing as blatant as money. Penn said that if I bought more advertising in the Herald , maybe he could dig a little deeper and disprove his facts. Otherwise he would run the report he had.”
    I was horrified. Did Penn really sell the news to the highest bidder? ”What did you do?”
    “I told that dirty newshound what he could do with his rumors.” Cord grunted. “Let me show you something.” He disappeared through the living room door in the direction of his office.
    “Well. It sounds like Penn was not quite the ‘icon’ that Mitch called him this afternoon.”
    Audie poured himself a cup of coffee. “We might as well follow him.” He walked back into the living room.
    Trailing behind, I didn’t know what to say. I thought back over a lifetime of news events. Penn couldn’t slant national or international news, not with twenty-four hour a day news networks. But what about local news? I shook my head. Grace Gulch’s grapevine worked too well for any reporter to tell an outright lie.
    Cord stomped into the room and slapped