Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River #3)(18)

“Damned right it is. You didn’t know Brianna was going to sing the anthem?” Zane removed his cap.

“No! Carly didn’t say a word.” She strode over to the rail, grabbing a free spot to get a clear view of her niece. Brianna’s sweet voice came through the speakers. It quivered momentarily, but she got her courage up and pushed through.

“Go, sweetheart!” Stevie whispered. “She’s really good,” she said to Zane.

He nodded, his gaze locked on Brianna.

Stevie held her breath as the childish voice soared through the rocket’s red glare, perfectly nailing every note and drawing cheers from the crowd. “She did it! Carly’s going to be so proud!”

“Good genes,” said Zane. “Glad to see it was passed to the next generation.” He put his cap back on as the crowd gave Brianna a standing ovation.

She gave a deep curtsy, grinning at the attention, clearly enjoying the spotlight.

Stevie’s heart wanted to burst with pride. She wiped at a tear. “I hope my mom caught that performance.”

“I’m sure she’s here. The whole town is here. Look at the stands.”

The risers were packed. Solitude liked nothing better than a town celebration.

“Thank you, Brianna Harding! Let’s give her another hand, folks!”

Stevie clapped until her hands stung.

“Everyone ready for a rodeo?” Deafening cheers rose from the stands. “But first, let’s remember why we’re celebrating here today.”

Stevie knew what was next. She’d been hearing the story since she could walk and every announcer told it before the rodeo started.

“About a hundred and fifty years ago, there was a fine Irish family that lived on the coast. They were hardworking people and they had a heck of a lot of kids.”

Hoots sounded from the audience.

“Now, the Irish loved their big families, but one of the Irish sons decided he’d had enough. He was tired of sharing everything with his brothers. Way back then they piled as many kids into a bed as they could, and they shared the water in the tub for their weekly baths. The parents washed first and then each kid got a turn in the used bathwater. By the time the youngest kid got a bath, the water wasn’t very clean anymore.”

More shouts and laughter.

“So one day this son left. He packed his bag, kissed his mama, and set off on his own pony. He was eighteen years old and had been considered a man for a long time. It was time to find a place where he could plant his own roots. He rode east from the coast, following our Rogue River for several days until he came to a crest that overlooked the water. He took off his horse’s bridle, caught some fish, and relaxed in a grassy spot, enjoying the silent woods. And do you know what he said?”

A series of incomprehensible shouts went up from the crowd. They’d all heard the story.

“That’s right! He looked up at the sky and said, ‘Thank you, Lord, for bringing me to this piece of solitude.’ And he built his first cabin on that spot. That young O’Rourke boy stuck out the first wet winter all by his lonesome and eventually persuaded a young woman to come live with him in his newfound solitude and raise a family. You all know we still have a strong line of O’Rourkes here today who’ve continued to call Solitude home. Where are you guys?”

Stevie saw Faye stand up and wave a hand while the audience cheered. She spotted Katelyn O’Rourke a few rows behind Faye, and wondered if her three brothers had come to town for the celebration. Faye’s sons had moved away from Solitude, not willing to embrace their family roots over their desire for solid employment.

“Fucking bitch.” Someone slurred the words to Stevie’s left. She whirled and discovered Alex Rollins had picked the spot beside her against the fence. His hair was too long and in need of shampoo, and it appeared that his face hadn’t seen a razor in several days. The alcohol fumes along with his sour breath made her take a step back into Zane. Alex’s gaze was focused across the ring on Faye.

She couldn’t believe this was the same man she’d seen two months ago when he brought his son in for an interview related to the teen death at the lake. Alex Rollins had been a clean-cut father concerned about his son. Now he looked like he’d been living on the streets of LA for a few weeks.

“Alex,” Zane said. “Watch the language, please.”

Alex turned bleary eyes to Zane. “I can f*cking say whatever I want. Free country. That bitch fired me. She’s told everyone in town I did crappy work at her precious hotel. Wasn’t true. I’m good at what I do. She didn’t even give me a chance, she just sent that * Burrowes to tell me not to come back to work one day.”

He glared across the ring again, not seeing the court gallop around the ring with their flags streaming behind them. Stevie stepped back as the horses pounded past them.

“No explanation other than I wasn’t up to their snooty standards. Now I can’t get anyone to hire me. I used to have the best reputation for custom cabinetry in Rogue County! People always called me first. Now I don’t get a chance to bid on a job.” Bitterness flowed from his tone as he swayed against the fence.

Stevie glanced at Zane, who shrugged. Alex was right, he could curse all he wanted; but now he’d triggered Zane’s close attention, making him watch for any signs that Alex needed to sleep off his drunk in a holding cell. There was always somebody who drank too much and caused a ruckus at every public event. Would it be Alex tonight?