"Her Majesty's Army, hmm?" Elliott Marston ran his eyes over the list.
"You're right, none of the others look feasible."
"But why would an officer want to kill you?" Sam Marston propped her chin on her hands and watched the play of candlelight on her husband's hair. "Do you have any enemies?"
The remains of a late dinner lay between them on the table. Their conversation had been interrupted by the return of an aggrieved Niall, determined to reinstate himself in their deliberations. All serious discussion had been postponed until he could be successfully put to bed. After three abortive attempts to rejoin them, he was finally asleep.
Marston tilted the paper to get more light. Sam watched him silently. Her anguish of the afternoon had subsided. She felt calmer now that she knew more about her husband's past. Her path was clear before her. His strong feelings about the death of his parents would have to be overcome and she was sure she could help him do it. It would be her biggest priority once this other nonsense was cleared up. The thought of what their future would be like if he continued to shoulder his burden of bitterness was too bleak to contemplate.
"Everyone has enemies, darling. This is Australia." He dropped the paper and stared into the middle distance. "I'm inclined to think that Latham isn't our man. He's too focussed on making money and I'm one of his investors."
"Then we'll have to look at the army. Have you argued with any officers lately?" The idea of Elliott quarreling with anyone was ludicrous; Sam couldn't believe that too many people survived the experience. She smiled at the thought.
"Not that I'm aware of." Marston narrowed his eyes at her expression and pointed an accusing finger. "And what are you smiling at, young lady?"
"The idea of officers plotting to remove you from the world." She tossed her head back with a laugh. Her long blond hair swished through the air. "It's so melodramatic."
"I won't deny that I've had disagreements over the years with some pretty senior men. They were usually about delivery dates or quantities of mutton and once I was threatened with the loss of a contract. But that's normal for army suppliers and they were not personal disputes by any means." Marston frowned thoughtfully. "So far as I know there is no reason for any army officer to wish me harmed let alone killed."
"So we're not any further ahead, are we?" It came out more discouraged than she intended.
"Yes, we are." He related his conversation with Len in the afternoon. "So it fits that Watters hung out with army men. It's a connection. But I can't help feeling that we're missing something. Let's think about this."
He folded his arms and gazed across the table at her. "Somebody got Ches Watters to hire somebody to kill me. Obviously Watters couldn't kill me himself; that wasn't his style at all. But your father turned him down flat."
"So?" Sam's shoulders tensed and she entwined her fingers together tightly.
"So why didn't he just get someone else to do it? I grant you that your father had quite a reputation but there are other men around who wouldn't have turned him down. And Watters would have known where to find them." Marston leaned forward, his body taut with the excitement of a hunter. "Another thing: why did Watters approach your father in the first place? It was well known that he was in a more respectable line of work. Why did it have to be Sam Flanagan?"
"I see what you mean." The words came out in a slow hiss. "It's as if someone wanted to make sure it was Dad and no one else."
"So this unknown army officer might be someone who also has a grudge against your Dad." Marston lifted his hand and tapped his finger on the table. "It might make sense. Watters' effort to kidnap Liam was an effort to force your father out of hiding." He looked up. "Was it known that your father had suffered a stroke and couldn't work?"
"It wasn't a secret." She frowned in concentration. "Dad didn't mingle much after my stepmother died so we didn't have a wide circle of friends."
"When Belle came to the hotel to visit us - was it really only a couple of weeks ago? - she said that Watters was upset that your father had left. So he knew that he was staying at Lilly's. Why wait until he'd left to try to find him again? What changed?"
"You'd come to town." Sam was almost whispering.
"Exactly." Marston rapped his finger on the table with each sentence. "And things moved quickly after that. So whoever was behind Watters didn't want your father to come out to the ranch to kill me. He wanted me killed here in town. And he knew that your father was sick whereas I am physically fit and not a bad gunman. Which makes me wonder: did this mysterious army man want me killed or your father?"
"But why would an officer want to kill you?" Sam Marston propped her chin on her hands and watched the play of candlelight on her husband's hair. "Do you have any enemies?"
The remains of a late dinner lay between them on the table. Their conversation had been interrupted by the return of an aggrieved Niall, determined to reinstate himself in their deliberations. All serious discussion had been postponed until he could be successfully put to bed. After three abortive attempts to rejoin them, he was finally asleep.
Marston tilted the paper to get more light. Sam watched him silently. Her anguish of the afternoon had subsided. She felt calmer now that she knew more about her husband's past. Her path was clear before her. His strong feelings about the death of his parents would have to be overcome and she was sure she could help him do it. It would be her biggest priority once this other nonsense was cleared up. The thought of what their future would be like if he continued to shoulder his burden of bitterness was too bleak to contemplate.
"Everyone has enemies, darling. This is Australia." He dropped the paper and stared into the middle distance. "I'm inclined to think that Latham isn't our man. He's too focussed on making money and I'm one of his investors."
"Then we'll have to look at the army. Have you argued with any officers lately?" The idea of Elliott quarreling with anyone was ludicrous; Sam couldn't believe that too many people survived the experience. She smiled at the thought.
"Not that I'm aware of." Marston narrowed his eyes at her expression and pointed an accusing finger. "And what are you smiling at, young lady?"
"The idea of officers plotting to remove you from the world." She tossed her head back with a laugh. Her long blond hair swished through the air. "It's so melodramatic."
"I won't deny that I've had disagreements over the years with some pretty senior men. They were usually about delivery dates or quantities of mutton and once I was threatened with the loss of a contract. But that's normal for army suppliers and they were not personal disputes by any means." Marston frowned thoughtfully. "So far as I know there is no reason for any army officer to wish me harmed let alone killed."
"So we're not any further ahead, are we?" It came out more discouraged than she intended.
"Yes, we are." He related his conversation with Len in the afternoon. "So it fits that Watters hung out with army men. It's a connection. But I can't help feeling that we're missing something. Let's think about this."
He folded his arms and gazed across the table at her. "Somebody got Ches Watters to hire somebody to kill me. Obviously Watters couldn't kill me himself; that wasn't his style at all. But your father turned him down flat."
"So?" Sam's shoulders tensed and she entwined her fingers together tightly.
"So why didn't he just get someone else to do it? I grant you that your father had quite a reputation but there are other men around who wouldn't have turned him down. And Watters would have known where to find them." Marston leaned forward, his body taut with the excitement of a hunter. "Another thing: why did Watters approach your father in the first place? It was well known that he was in a more respectable line of work. Why did it have to be Sam Flanagan?"
"I see what you mean." The words came out in a slow hiss. "It's as if someone wanted to make sure it was Dad and no one else."
"So this unknown army officer might be someone who also has a grudge against your Dad." Marston lifted his hand and tapped his finger on the table. "It might make sense. Watters' effort to kidnap Liam was an effort to force your father out of hiding." He looked up. "Was it known that your father had suffered a stroke and couldn't work?"
"It wasn't a secret." She frowned in concentration. "Dad didn't mingle much after my stepmother died so we didn't have a wide circle of friends."
"When Belle came to the hotel to visit us - was it really only a couple of weeks ago? - she said that Watters was upset that your father had left. So he knew that he was staying at Lilly's. Why wait until he'd left to try to find him again? What changed?"
"You'd come to town." Sam was almost whispering.
"Exactly." Marston rapped his finger on the table with each sentence. "And things moved quickly after that. So whoever was behind Watters didn't want your father to come out to the ranch to kill me. He wanted me killed here in town. And he knew that your father was sick whereas I am physically fit and not a bad gunman. Which makes me wonder: did this mysterious army man want me killed or your father?"