by Aimée Thurlo
Anger began to simmer inside him. And now, years later, his father had given this woman the job of restoring the studio and had allowed her to pursue her own artwork there. The knowledge knifed at him. It was the ultimate in hypocrisy. “Did my father ever tell you what happened there?”
“All Paul ever said was that those rooms had seen a lot of sadness and the time had come to move forward.”
It made little sense to Jake. His father had denied one artist, but made it possible for another to work there. Then again, in some crazy way, maybe his father had been trying to balance out the past. Jake just didn’t know anymore, and his father wasn’t around to provide any answers.
Annie got up, reached into the closet behind the massive walnut desk and brought out a large box. “This was his stack of unanswered correspondence.” She placed it in front of Jake, then went to a tall, walnut file cabinet and pulled out some ledgers. “I think these are this year’s ranch accounts, but I’m not sure how up-to-date everything is. Your father sometimes had me help him with the paperwork and filing taxes, but basically he played catch-up once a month.”
“That was his way,” Jake answered, remembering how many times bills had been overdue, not because of lack of funds but because his father had been busy with the horses or something else.
Jake stared at the ledgers Annie had set in front of him, wondering if he should bring in his own accountants or honor what he knew would have been his father’s last wishes and do it himself. He opted to take care of it alone. He didn’t want any more strangers delving into the family’s business matters until he knew more about what was going on. It would have been easier, though, if his father had moved into the modern age and done his bookkeeping electronically. “Is Patrick Kelly still my father’s attorney?”
“As far as I know,” she answered from her position at the window overlooking the corral. “But I doubt he ever did much except draw up papers when a horse was sold or a stud or mare was leased. Your father didn’t discuss his business with anyone. He didn’t even use a computer, because he said that if he had a problem, he’d have to call in somebody to come look over his shoulder. Maintaining his privacy was almost like a game to your father, one he enjoyed. Had Paul been born in the Middle Ages, he would have had a million winding secret passages all through the house.”
Jake smiled. “That’s not so far off the mark, but my father was no dark, romantic hero. He was just a man who lived alone, even in the midst of people.”
She nodded pensively, but didn’t comment.
“Do you know if my father had a will drawn up?”
“He mentioned something about updating his will a few months ago, but that’s all I recall. He didn’t talk about it other than that.”
Jake nodded. That fit with his father’s love of privacy. “If we can’t locate that will, we may have a serious problem. Without one, probate can hold things up for a long time.” He and Nick would have to try to juggle their father’s estate in addition to their own businesses for as long as that process required. His gut clenched. He wanted to get back to Denver, to the life he’d made for himself there. Here in Northern New Mexico, on pueblo land, no matter where he turned there were either questions or memories he’d hoped to forget.
“Patrick Kelly is on vacation,” she told him, moving to stand beside the massive desk. “I heard he’s an avid skier, so he’s probably on the slopes somewhere. I’ll track him down for you. I’m sure he’s left word with his office staff.”
“If we find the will, do you think there’s a chance you’re mentioned in it?” he asked.
“I have no idea. But for the record, that’s not the reason I’m offering to help you,” Annie said curtly. “I just figured you had enough on your hands trying to get in touch with your brother, taking care of funeral arrangements, and honoring the pueblo’s own death rituals. If you prefer to handle it all on your own, just say so.”
He saw anger flash in Annie’s gray-green eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and, though it was hardly possible, she looked even more beautiful. But what attracted him even beyond her looks and intelligence was her fighting spirit. Despite her soft voice, she never seemed to back down except to regroup.
And that was why, as far as he was concerned, Annie Sandusky was a walking danger zone. He was attracted to her, which only spelled trouble. Growing up on the ranch under his father’s thumb he had learned that it never paid to form attachments. Attachments only gave someone else power over your feelings.
That lesson about life had served him well, too. His life-style in Colorado suited him to a tee. He had few, if any, worries. He either lived in one of the homes his company crew was readying for the market, or, if that wasn’t possible, in a furnished apartment. He didn’t even own a potted plant. The last thing he needed in his life was to find himself attracted to a pregnant woman who’d undoubtedly become dependent on him.
Still, as his gaze strayed over Annie where she stood, he felt a yearning he couldn’t define. Wondering about his sanity, he began to sort through the large stack of correspondence in front of him.
“All I can see here are bills. Just how he recorded his income, and when checks came in, I haven’t a clue. It’s going to take days to go through everything.” Jake set the mail down and picked up the current ledger, shaking his head.
“I have a feeling we’ll find our first clue hidden here among all this paperwork,” Annie said somberly. “But you’re right. It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.” Hearing footsteps, she turned around and smiled as a Tewa man in his late fifties came into the room. He had wide shoulders and a strong build that attested to long hours of hard physical labor at the ranch.
“After all that’s happened, I wasn’t sure if you’d come in today, Martin,” Annie said, reclaiming her seat in front of Paul’s desk.
“I never left. I slept in the room next to the kitchen.” He glanced over at Jake. “Good morning. I’m sorry I didn’t get more time to talk with you last night, Jakey.”
Jake had always hated the nickname, but from Martin he would have taken almost everything. Without hesitation, Jake stood and hugged the older man. “I should have known you were here. I went out to the stables earlier this morning, but the animals had already been fed and watered.”
Martin nodded. “I take care of the horses shortly after dawn. But my job has always included more than that. Your father was a Made Person, one of the tribal leaders who directs our rituals. According to our ways, that means he was a mediator between the spiritual and the human worlds. I was his Towa é—his war captain assigned to guard him whenever he left the pueblo. Now, as his Towa é, there are responsibilities that I have to attend to. Do you remember what has to be done?”
Jake nodded. “But the police won’t release the body this soon. They need to do an autopsy.”
“The Winter Chief, the man who is in charge of all the pueblo ceremonies done this time of year, has already spoken to Captain Mora. The Office of the Medical Investigator has promised to do what they have to quickly so that the body can be returned to us. If your father’s soul is not released according to our rites, twelve days from the day he died, he’ll return and call others to join him. Many will die.”
Jake struggled to remain patient. Traditions and religious customs at the pueblo required attention to even the minutest detail. The endless demands never failed to make him feel suffocated, though he knew the ancient rituals were meant to accomplish exactly the opposite. They were the means for bringing the tribe together again after a tragedy.
“The winds were strong before sunup this morning,” Martin continued. “That means his spirit is already growing restless.”
Jake returned to his father’s desk. “Until they release the body, there’s nothing that can be done. The laws of New Mexico apply here.”
“But since you were the first twin to be born, you’re the head of the house now. People will expect you to see to it that our customs are upheld. There’ll be a lot f
or you to handle, too, but at least you won’t have to face it alone. Tewa ways demand that two of us remain in the house at all times until the burial rites are completed. If the house is unoccupied, your father’s spirit will return and stay. I’m a war captain, and I’m loyal to this family. I’ll stay by your side. I won’t allow anyone or anything to endanger you.”
Jake shook his head. “I understand the traditions of the pueblo, but I don’t need a war captain to guard me. I’ll finish what needs to be done, and see to it that my father’s killer is found. After that, I intend to give the land back to the tribe, and sell all the ranch’s assets. My home’s in Colorado now.”
“You’ll do what you feel you have to,” Martin said. “If you need me for anything, I’ll be close by.” The foreman left as quietly as he’d arrived.
Jake knew Martin had no intention of giving him some space. His mind was made up, and nothing would change it now. He would remain Jake’s protector.
Jake looked at Annie. “I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about finding a new place to live right away. First, my father’s affairs have to be taken care of, his property settled, and the land turned back to the pueblo, and I don’t expect any of that to happen before the case is closed.”
He paused, then remembering how his own father had turned him out with practically nothing, added, “I don’t want to pry, but will you have enough money to relocate when the time comes? If not, I’ll be glad to help. I know you want to stay around friends, but once your baby is born, you may be ready for a change. I own other properties in Colorado. If you need help finding rent you can afford...”
She gave him a wry smile. “I don’t need charity, if that’s what you’re really asking. I can take care of myself and my baby when it arrives.”
Annie was proud, and that was one emotion he understood very well. Jake tried to hold her gaze, but she had suddenly decided to show interest in some books on the shelf above his head. Frustration tore at him. Women usually liked him, but he had no idea how to charm a woman that was so... well, pregnant. That, admittedly, was one of the primary reasons he was determined to help her, too. And, if it was his father’s child she carried, he owed her something more—he didn’t know just what at the moment.
“Before I get bogged down going through all these papers, I’m going to try once more to get hold of Nick,” he said at last.
“In that case, I’ll give you some privacy and go talk to the part-time wranglers Paul hired to work with the horses. Those men knew your father as well as anyone. The horses were your dad’s passion.” Annie smiled sadly. “He used to say that he could always trust his horses, that their body language never lied.”
Jake shrugged. As usual, the old man had left something out. Horses signalled their intent, but not always far enough in advance to benefit their rider. He was about to point that out, but one look at her face stopped him.
“Your opinion of your father is different from mine, Jake. But one thing I can say with certainty is that the animals understood your father, and he them. Even the high-strung stallions never gave him problems. He could get a horse to do anything for him, without ever laying a whip on him.”
Jake remembered how his father had trained the animals. He’d been relentless, wearing the horse’s resistance down with slow, psychological pressure. In the end, he’d always win. He’d done the same with Nick and him.
Jake leaned back in his chair and had started to reply when someone knocked at the door. It was Martin again. “The police are here. Captain Mora has a warrant to search the house and all the out buildings, including the bunkhouse.”
“For the murder weapon?” Jake asked.
Martin nodded. “And anything else the killer may have left behind. They’re working in the bunkhouse now. They’ll be here next.”
Chapter Four
The thought of the police ransacking her home made her turn as white as a ghost. “My carvings!” Annie sucked in her breath. “If they damage my current project, I’ll lose my income. I can’t start all over with only nine days left before it’s due.”
“Your carvings will be all right, Annie,” Jake said, rising from his chair and moving to stand in front of her. “That’s not what they’re looking for.” Her fear touched him. He knew what it was like to struggle to make ends meet. He’d been there himself not many years ago. He resisted the urge to put his arms around her to try to soothe her fears, knowing she’d never tolerate it.
“I also have several knives. They’re about the only tools used in chip carving. If they’re damaged, or confiscated, I’m going to be just as hard-pressed to finish my work on time. Those knives are like extensions of my hands, and my imagination, when I work with the wood.”
“But none of your carving tools could be the murder weapon. I saw my father’s body,” he said, his voice subdued. “The type that was used to kill him had a long, sharp blade, like a butcher knife.”
“Yes, you’re right,” she answered, sorrow heavy in her voice. “I remember the murder weapon very well. The killer threatened me with it.” She sucked in a long, shuddering breath. “But I just can’t sit around here and hope for the best. I have to go over there and make sure my work isn’t damaged or my tools misplaced when they move things around. If I’m not ready for this gallery showing, my entire career could be put on hold.” Annie stood slowly and with effort. “I’m going to the bunkhouse right now. And, one way or another, I’ll track down Paul’s attorney for you. Patrick Kelly really needs to be here to help you, especially with the will.”
Hearing someone else at the door, Martin motioned for her to stay where she was. “Let me get that first. People have been stopping by and leaving food all morning. But it might be Captain Mora and you’ll probably want to stick around to hear what he has to say.”
Martin stepped out and a moment later the police captain came into the room. Martin followed him in, then stood silently just inside the doorway.
Jake noticed that Mora was neither surprised nor offended by Martin’s failure to give them some privacy. Martin had been completely loyal to his father, as everyone knew. No one would question him extending that loyalty to Paul’s son. But Jake knew things weren’t always the way they seemed. What appeared to be loyalty could have been motivated by something else entirely. The thought disturbed him, so he brushed it aside for now.
“The FBI will be monitoring this case closely. I already have an agent waiting for me at the office,” Captain Mora said without preamble. “Jake, if either you or Annie knows anything about the murder, this is the time to tell me.”
Jake shook his head, then glanced at Annie, wondering how much she’d say.
“I told you everything I know or remember,” she said.
Mora met Annie’s gaze with a steely one of his own. “Things must be very difficult for you right now. You’ve probably got a million things on your mind with the baby coming and all. Just remember not to make it worse on yourself by allowing old loyalties to drag you into the middle of a criminal investigation.”
“Those old loyalties are based on respect and gratitude for a friend. I’m staying involved because I need to pay Paul back by helping find his killer. I would never withhold information.”
Mora’s skepticism was evident on his face.
“I’ll continue to cooperate any way I can,” she said, “but I sure hope your men haven’t damaged any of my work as they searched. I need to finish the carving I’m working on and to get paid for it, because it will be my last big piece for a while.”
“My officers were careful.” Mora glanced at Jake. “We’ve already searched this house from top to bottom, but I have a special team going over the grounds now. We’ll be here for some time.”
“Take as long as you need. I want the answers as badly as you do,” Jake answered.
As soon as Captain Mora left the room, Jake looked at Annie. He could see the tension in her beautiful eyes. She looked even more vulnerable now, obviously worried abo
ut her livelihood. All the things that had given her a sense of security, such as her home and her art, were being threatened.
“Why don’t you take my truck and drive back to the bunkhouse? I know you’re worried about what’s going on down there. Come back whenever you’re ready. There’s no hurry.”
“Thanks,” she said with a hesitant smile. The loan of his truck was the kind of help she could accept. “I appreciate it.”
Jake watched as Annie walked out of the office, head held high. There was a quiet dignity about her he couldn’t help but admire. He didn’t want to like Annie—she was a bundle of trouble—but he couldn’t help himself. She was a fascinating blend of fire and ice, strength and vulnerability.
Alone now, he sat back and looked around. Even though his father was gone, this room still held his mark. It made Jake uncomfortable to stay here, but he remained seated where he was, almost in defiance. Memories crowded his mind. These walls had seen a lot of unhappiness over the years. His father had ruled this house with an iron fist, and what he couldn’t tame, he defeated.
Jake and Nick had spent years trying to live up to their father’s expectations, especially after their mother died. But nothing they’d ever achieved had satisfied him. Eventually he’d kicked them both out at the age of eighteen, a month after high school graduation. He’d given each of them five hundred dollars, which at the time had been just enough money to get by on for a month, if they were careful. Angry and surprised at the sudden expulsion, they’d both left, vowing to never return.
In retrospect, Paul Black Raven had gotten precisely what he’d wanted for his sons. Two boys with a desperate need to prove themselves had gone out into the world and succeeded, each in his own way.
With reluctance, Jake picked up the telephone and dialed his brother’s number. Distance and time had worked to make the differences that had always existed between them even more pronounced. He and Nick seldom spoke these days. Talking only led to arguments. He’d almost been relieved yesterday and earlier today when nobody answered his calls.