Carson walked in around eight. I expected him to approach the bar to talk to Max, but to my surprise he took a seat in my section.

He greeted me enthusiastically when I walked up to his table. “We didn’t have the chance to be properly introduced earlier,” he said with a smile. “I’m Carson Purdy. I work for the Drummonds.” He released a chuckle. “The elder Drummonds.”

I smiled back, grateful for a friendly face after being pummeled by frowns all evening—even if the elder Drummonds had sent him here on some kind of fact-finding mission. “I’m Carly Moore.”

He shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Carly Moore. Max speaks highly of you. Says you’re from Georgia.”

Was he fishing for information? The warm look on his face suggested he was just trying to be friendly, but I didn’t know enough about him to judge. “That’s right. I take it you were born and raised around here?”

He laughed. “I’m from Ohio, believe it or not. I know how hard it can be to break into this town, so if you ever want to chat—outsider to outsider—you let me know.”

He pulled a business card out of his shirt’s front pocket. Did he have a stack of them in there, or had he carried this one around just for me?

“Thanks, Carson, but I’m not staying. Just passing through.”

“Offer still stands.”

I glanced at the card. He’d likely approached me with hopes of getting some information, and yet it occurred to me that I could do the same. He likely knew a lot about the town…and the Drummonds. “Have you worked for the Drummonds long?”

“Since Max and Wyatt were boys. I was practically a kid myself.”

“So you saw this town when it was in its prime.” Taking a risk, I added, “When the town and the Drummonds were thriving.”

He hesitated, obviously suspicious of my comments. “You interested in the history of Drum or just the Drummonds?”

I forced a chuckle. “From what I’ve come to understand, it’s one and the same.”

Shifting in his seat, he picked up the saltshaker and twirled it between his fingers. “The Drummonds have run this town for nearly two hundred years, but times are hard.”

“Max said his father had something secret in the works to help the town.”

A grin lifted his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Max is speakin’ out of turn. Bart Drummond doesn’t like people discussin’ his personal business. If you want to stick around, you’d do best to remember that.”

“I suppose you’ll be sure to report my nosiness,” I said before I thought better of it.

“Not me,” he said, his smile returning. “You’re still learnin’ the way of the place, and like I said, us outsiders need to stick together.” He pointed to the card in my hand. “I meant what I said. We should have a chat sometime.”

He seemed sincere, but I wasn’t sure what to think of him. Maybe it was a bad idea to trust anyone in Drum. “I take it you don’t need a few minutes to consider the drink menu?”

He chuckled and asked for a Coke, which Max took over to him personally. The two of them chatted for several minutes, their heads bent together, and Carson left soon afterward. He’d left a pile of cash on the table, with a bigger tip than I’d gotten all night.

About ten minutes later, Ruth approached me while I was standing by the kitchen window, taking a breather, but the look on her face told me my short moment of respite was over. I decided to head off the questions I knew were coming.

“Does Carson Purdy come in here often?”

She made a face. “Seein’ as how it’s one of the few places to eat in town, yeah. He’s here often enough.”

“What’s he do for the Drummonds, anyway?”

“He takes care of their land, runs errands, typical assistant stuff.”

“And checks in with Max about the motel?”

“Sometimes.”

Was Carson Purdy Max’s ace in the hole? If so, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I wasn’t sure I wanted any help from the elder Drummonds—even if they were so inclined.

Ruth gave me a questioning look, but when I didn’t offer any information, she changed the subject for me. “How is it that you caught a ride with Wyatt?” she asked in a hushed tone. “What in the world was he doin’ in Greeneville?”

“Same as me,” I said. “Visiting Hank.”

I expected her to show more surprise, but she simply pressed her lips together.

“Is Wyatt a family friend?” I asked.

“You could say,” she said. “Wyatt was kind of a mentor to the boy, and he helped out around the place. Hank’s been pretty much homebound for a while, so Wyatt ran the boy down to Greeneville and Ewing for things they couldn’t get in Drum.”

Hearing that did something to me, as if a handful of rocks had been sent ricocheting through my empty places. Wyatt must have been devastated to hear the news. No wonder he’d shown up at the bar in such a state.

“Did he hear you tell Mr. Hank about Seth’s last words?” Ruth asked.

“No,” I said. “He showed up after I told the nurse I’d bring Hank home tomorrow morning.”

She propped her hands on her hips and jutted her body to one side. “You did what, now?”

I was having déjà vu of my conversation with Max. “The nurse told Hank that he’d have to go to a rehab center if no one showed up to get him. So I offered to do it.”

“You must be out of your ever-lovin’ mind,” she said. “That man just had his leg amputated. Who’s gonna take care of him?”

“I am,” I said “I’m gonna stay with him until his home health service kicks in at the end of the week.” Then I quickly added, “But I’m still gonna work here at the tavern.”

“Who’s gonna watch him while you’re workin’?” Ruth asked.

“I will,” a firm male voice said from the doorway to the back. Wyatt stood in the opening, his confident air demanding my attention. To my frustration, my reaction to him seemed to intensify every time I saw him. But the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t here for a friendly chat.

“What the hell are you doin’ back here, Wyatt?” Ruth demanded, fury in her eyes. “Wasn’t busting in here last night enough for you?”

“Max told me Carly was back here.”

The veins in her neck popped out. “Max let you back here? We’ll just see about that.”

Giving herself a wide berth around him, she marched off toward the bar.

“I take it you two aren’t fast friends,” I said, gesturing to Ruth. Maybe their short romance hadn’t ended well.

Standing in front of me, he turned to cast her a long glance, his face expressionless. “You could say that.”

But he didn’t elaborate, and it was none of my concern. “Did I hear you correctly that you’ll stay with Hank while I’m working?”

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. “He won’t stand for a full-time babysitter, whether it’s you, me, or a nurse. He’ll want us to check on him and get out.”