by Aimée Thurlo
As he waited for someone to pick up the phone, Jake thought about his brother. Nick had always viewed the world from a different perspective. He’d never been able to see the big picture, because he’d always concentrated far too much on the small pieces of the puzzle.
Jake remembered their mother comparing them to fire and ice, both invincible in their own way. Jake was said to blaze over anything that stood in his way while Nick weighed his options critically to come up with ways to achieve his desired goal. He would freeze out anything and anyone in his way by anticipating and countering their every move. But, as everyone knew, fire and ice could not co-exist. Despite their physical similarities, their own natures had relegated them to opposite corners.
On the tenth ring, just as he was about to hang up, Nick at last picked up the phone. Tension filled Jake as he heard his twin brother’s voice for the first time in months. He identified himself, though he knew it wasn’t needed.
“I’m surprised to hear from you,” Nick answered, his voice nearly identical to Jake’s. “I’ve never known you to call in the middle of a workday. Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, little brother,” he said, filling Nick in on the basic facts of his father’s death. “I’ve got things covered here for now, so if you need some time to make arrangements before you head back, I understand. I’ll handle things for both of us.”
“Like hell you will,” he stormed. “I’ll be there the second I can find someone to cover for me here in Phoenix.”
Jake heard the dial tone and, despite everything, smiled. Nick would never believe it, but he hadn’t been trying to be patronizing. He’d only been trying to help. He shook his head slowly. Nick had spent his adult life putting people back on their feet by providing job training for those down on their luck. He’d offered tough alternative programs in Arizona and had produced remarkable results. Yet, despite Nick’s legendary control over his temper, Jake could still get under his brother’s skin.
Staring out the window lost in thought, Jake was startled when he heard Martin’s voice behind him. He turned around quickly, wishing Martin wouldn’t pad around the house as silently as a cat. “Yes?”
“The Winter Chief is here to take your father’s ritual bowl to its resting place.”
“I’m not releasing anything. Not until I have a chance—”
“The police have no objection. They respect our traditions—as you should,” Martin added sternly.
The bowl had been his father’s most important ceremonial object. Since ritual items owned by someone of his father’s standing could not be used again, they were retired to a lake or mountain shrine by the priests.
As Jake met Martin’s gaze, he decided this was a battle he didn’t want to fight. If the police had no objections, neither did he. Knowing where his father had kept the sacred bowl, he went to the bookcase and reached for the top shelf, bringing it down. “Here. Give it to the Winter Chief and tell him to do with it whatever needs to be done.”
Martin took the hand-shaped pottery bowl reverently. Decorated in traditional patterns, it had been hardened in a carefully controlled piñon fire. “Your father worked hard to be a good man,” he said somberly, “though, admittedly, he seldom did things the way we would have wanted.”
Jake said nothing, knowing any argument was futile and out of place now.
“You never really understood him,” Martin added, “but maybe you will as you go through his papers and learn more about him. The real problem between you and Paul was that you were very much alike. You were both fighters, and strong-willed.”
Martin looked around the room sadly. “When you finally accept the similarities between you, and allow yourself to think like him, you’ll find the clues that’ll lead you to his killer.”
Before Jake could ask him anything more, Martin was gone. Jake pursed his lips, annoyed. In some ways, Martin had been more of a father figure to Nick and him than their real father. But the man could also be the most annoying human being in New Mexico.
Still thinking about what Martin had said, Jake reached for the xayeh that had always been kept on the shelf beside the bowl. The souls of their ancestors were said to be part of the stone that served as a guardian to the family. As he held it in the palm of his hand, a faded memory began taking form in his mind.
One night, a lifetime ago, he’d snuck into the house after curfew. He’d been heading for the stairs when he’d caught a glimpse of his father taking books down and hiding something up on the high shelf. Jake hadn’t lingered. Back then nothing had been as important to him as not getting caught. But now, with Annie’s words about hiding places still ringing in his mind, he felt compelled to look.
Setting the xayeh down on the desk, Jake reached up and cleared the upper shelf. As he did, the outline of a small, hinged compartment carved into the wall itself came into view.
For a moment Jake didn’t move, reluctant to open the panel. Violating his father’s privacy went against everything he’d been taught. But his father was past caring, and his murder demanded justice. Knowing he had no choice, he pulled the tiny handle.
Reaching inside the boxlike enclosure, he withdrew a small, leather-bound notebook. As Jake leafed through the pages, he found a listing of every address he and Nick had ever lived at since the day they’d left. It was then that he realized their father hadn’t really abandoned them. He’d kept tabs on them all through the years. The news stunned him, giving him a new perspective on the father he thought he’d known so well. The knowledge that he’d been watching their progress all these years was unsettling. Had his father cared more than he’d let on? Jake wasn’t sure anymore.
Hearing the sound of footsteps and unfamiliar voices right outside, Jake moved quickly, putting the notebook back where he’d found it and replacing all the things that concealed the niche in the wall. He didn’t want anyone else to know about the address book until he’d had a chance to study it and show it to his brother.
A moment later Martin stepped into the room. He glanced down at the xayeh that still lay on the desk, and gave Jake a knowing smile. Jake wondered if Martin had known about his father’s special hiding place all along, but there was no way to find out without tipping his own hand.
“The police will be finished soon,” the foreman said. “Just remember they have a right to whatever information will lead them to the killer, but nothing more. I would advise you to honor your father’s privacy even in death.” Martin placed a tray with a sandwich and a glass of cola with a twist of lemon in front of Jake. “Your father and I got used to having lunch together recently. We took turns fixing the sandwiches. Today was my turn.”
Looking down at it, Jake smiled. “You remembered how I like my soft drinks.”
“Of course. I know this family almost as well as I do my own,” he said. “And now I better get going. There’s a lot of work to do today,” he said, heading out the door.
As Jake sat behind his father’s desk, a gnawing restlessness plagued him. For the first time in his life, he was beginning to understand the weight of responsibility his father had shouldered. If the ranch was turned back to the pueblo, which owned the land, Martin, for one, would lose his job. He wondered what would become of him then. The man had worked for the Black Raven family for almost thirty years. And there were others, as well, such as the wranglers, who were only able to keep their own small farms thanks to the extra earnings their employment here provided them.
And now, to make matters even more complicated, there was Annie to consider, too. The woman had become part of Jake’s every thought, whether he liked it or not. As it stood, the bunkhouse was her home. She’d worked hard to make it so, and she deserved to have a place to live. If he sold everything he inherited and the ranch closed down, what would happen to Annie and her child?
The inescapable truth was that his father’s legacy involved far more than a ranch on pueblo land, a houseful of furniture, and a small herd of quality horses. “Old man, what have you gotten m
e into?” he whispered. Silence was his only answer.
Chapter Five
Annie finished straightening up the room she’d turned into her studio. The police had created a lot of clutter as they’d searched through everything, but at least they’d been careful not to damage her carvings or carry off any of her tools. She was grateful to Captain Mora for that.
Annie looked around the whitewashed adobe interior with a heavy heart. She’d expected to stay here for at least a few years, but now everything had changed—all except for the baby that was due in less than a month. With each passing day, she felt closer to the child inside her. It was funny how a tiny baby who hadn’t even been born yet, had changed her entire life and her outlook on everything.
Annie walked into the former tack room off the bedroom area, the place she’d turned into the nursery. All along the wooden beams where riding gear would normally hang, she’d placed wooden cutouts of teddy bears and other cartoon characters from the pages of a children’s book. She’d made the pale buttercup curtains. The hand-crafted cottonwood-and-pine crib in the center of the room was a gift from one of the women at the pueblo. It had taken Annie months but she’d managed to fill the nursery with all the little treasures she’d hoped her baby would love.
Now, with Paul Black Raven gone, the bunkhouse had ceased to be a haven for her and the child. The nursery would have to be cleared out and she’d be forced to move on.
Depressed, she walked back to her bedroom. She was glad now that she hadn’t spent any money on Christmas decorations. She’d need every cent, from the looks of it, these next few months. Annie eased beneath the down comforter. Her back ached and her ankles were swollen again. These days the slightest thing wore her out. She closed her eyes and snuggled into the warm bedcovers, planning to rest for just a moment.
CARS DRIVING BY the bunkhouse one after the other woke her from a sound sleep. The traffic didn’t come as a surprise to her, in fact, she’d been expecting it. People from the pueblo and surrounding countryside were undoubtedly coming to pay their respects.
Annie struggled to her feet. She thought she’d only just dozed off but, as she checked the clock, she realized it was already evening. And, to make matters even worse, she still hadn’t returned Jake’s truck.
Trying to renew her energy, she showered quickly then slipped into her favorite maternity dress. The dark green wool was warm and perfect for such a cold day as today.
Locking the door behind her, Annie drove to the main house, found a place to park among at least ten other vehicles, then hurried to the front door. As she stepped inside, she was surprised to see how many people from the area were there. The sala was nearly full, and a half dozen or more visitors were standing in the hall.
Annie nodded to the faces she recognized as she looked around for Jake. She finally spotted him beside the kiva fireplace, speaking to Iris Ortiz, a middle-age spinster with a voice that always reminded her of a cawing crow.
Iris had worked for Paul as a housekeeper until early last summer. Paul had never told her why Iris had suddenly left his employ, but Annie had learned the story months later from Martin. Paul had apparently caught Iris reading his private papers and fired her. Like Martin, Annie suspected that Iris had been in love with Paul and had simply wanted to know more about him.
As she watched Jake now, Annie wondered how much he knew about Iris, but, as usual, it was impossible to read much from his demeanor. The only thing that betrayed the tension he was feeling was the stoniness of his expression, obviously the result of his self-control. When he gave a rare smile, the gesture never quite reached his eyes.
Annie reached for a cup of hot apple cider from the serving tray on the table and took several sips, trying to warm up.
Martin came over then, and, standing beside her, surveyed the gathering. “I have a feeling people will continue to drop by until late evening. Everyone wants to pay their respects to Jake since, traditionally, he’s the new head of the Black Raven household.”
“And, no doubt, they’re also curious about him. Look at the furtive glances they keep sending in his direction.”
“Everyone wants to know what he’s going to do next.”
Annie knew that the question was a critical one for Martin, too. “If the brothers decide to sell the horses and close up the ranch, what will you do?”
Martin shrugged. “I’ll find another job, maybe closer to Santa Fe.” He looked directly at her. “And you? Someday your carvings will bring you all the income you need, but you need time to make a name for yourself.”
“I’ll be able to get by for the next few months on the pieces I’ve already sold, but after that I’ll just have to see how things go.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the uncertainty of it was still pretty daunting.
Martin continued to look around the room, silently noting the quick glances people gave Annie. “You’re under scrutiny here today, as well as Jake. Most of the people still don’t know what to make of you.”
“You mean, because of that persistent gossip that I’m carrying Paul’s child? At first I told them plainly that the baby wasn’t Paul’s, but the gossip continued. There’s nothing more I can do. They can either believe me, or not. It’s their choice.”
“I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over the past year, and I don’t think you’re capable of telling a convincing lie.” He gestured toward Jake. “But you’ve got to give him a chance. He doesn’t know you at all. To earn his trust, you’ve got to show some trust in him, as well,” Martin said before moving away to greet new arrivals at the door.
Annie was refilling her cup of cider when a wonderful shiver raced up her spine, leaving her body tingling. Obeying an instinct she didn’t really understand, she turned to see Jake looking at her. His earthy eyes captured and held her gaze. He’d been looking at her and, somehow, she’d felt it as keenly as a lover’s touch. He gave her a devastatingly sensual half smile that this time went all the way to his eyes.
As he crossed the room, her gaze stayed riveted on him. His loose-legged stride exuded masculinity. Men stepped back automatically, making room as he went by. The women cast him admiring glances. His presence and charisma were a devastating combination that delivered quite a sensual wallop.
Her heart drummed furiously with excitement as he drew near. Then Annie noticed Iris, the ex-housekeeper, trailing behind him, either unaware that Jake’s attention had shifted away from her, or maybe because she was just too curious about him to allow him an easy exit.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jake said, joining Annie at last. “I was beginning to worry.”
Annie knew instinctively that his words had piqued Iris’s curiosity. Trying to minimize the gossip that would undoubtedly be all over the pueblo the next day, Annie handed him his keys. “I’m sorry I took so long. Thank you for loaning me your pickup.”
“I suppose I should extend my sympathies to you, as well,” Iris said, interrupting. “Now that Paul...er, Mr. Black Raven is gone, your life will certainly be changing, won’t it?” she added, looking pointedly at her.
“Except the fact that I’ve lost a dear friend, I don’t expect anything else to change drastically,” Annie said, determined not to give Iris tales to carry. “I’ll still be living in the bunkhouse for the time being, working on my carvings, and I’m still going to have a baby. My life’s pretty predictable, I’d say.”
But Iris persisted. “To make a living out of your art, I expect you’ll have to work long hours. It’s expensive to raise a child, particularly for a single mom. Not that you intend to stay that way, I’m sure. My goodness, just look at yourself. You’re young, pretty, and resourceful. I bet you’ve got your sights set on someone already.”
“Please excuse us, Iris. There’s some private business I need to discuss with Mrs. Sandusky.” Jake took Annie’s arm and led her across the room. “I was afraid you were about to punch that annoying woman,” he added as soon as they were at a safe distance.
“A
nd here I thought I was doing a great job of keeping a poker face.”
“Others might have thought so,” Jake answered. “But you and I seem to read each other pretty well.”
His voice, soft and masculine, felt like an intimate caress. An intoxicating warmth flowed through her. “It’s just your imagination.”
“Is it?” His whisper weaved past her defenses, leaving her feeling more vulnerable than ever.
As people began to approach, offering condolences, Annie found it impossible to leave his side, though she desperately wanted to put some distance between herself and Jake.
Finally, Jake took a deep breath. “You know, there’s something not right about these people. They say the right things, but their hearts don’t seem to be in it.”
“Your father had many acquaintances but, from what I could tell, only a handful of friends.”
“Yes, I think you’ve put your finger on what was bothering me. My father had people who were loyal to him, and enemies, too, I’d expect. But friends...I’m surprised he knew how to make any at all.”
“Martin and I were his friends, and there were others, too,” she said in defense of Paul. “But he chose to keep his inner circle small. You didn’t know him as well as you think, if you really believe he was incapable of making friends. He could be charming and incredibly kind.”
Suddenly a burly Tewa man with long hair wrapped chongo style at the nape of his neck strode into the sala. His footsteps were loud as he stepped across the brick floor, and his expression was that of a man looking for confrontation, not consolation. As people’s eyes turned toward him, the room quickly grew quiet.
Curious, Annie studied the stranger, who’d seemed to bring everything to a standstill with his arrival. The man’s features were sharp and disproportionate.