by Aimée Thurlo
The newcomer spotted Jake and went directly toward him. The crowd gave way in front of him like sheep avoiding a hungry wolf. Excusing himself from Annie, Jake went forward to meet the man.
Annie couldn’t take her eyes off the pair. Their handshake was brief and they spoke in hushed tones; she was unable to overhear their conversation, despite the lingering quiet.
“That’s the twins’ uncle, Thomas Ray,” Martin said in a low tone, joining her. “He’s their mother’s oldest brother. I don’t think he’s stepped foot in this house since the day his sister died, almost twenty years ago. He and Paul never saw eye-to-eye on anything.”
“Paul mentioned him to me once after I’d overheard an argument he’d had with him on the phone. I believe there was a long-running feud between them over a diary Saya had kept.”
As they spoke, another Pueblo man, small in stature but not in girth, joined them. She smiled at Virgil Lowman, glad to have him there. She’d liked the man since the first day she’d met him at Paul’s ranch. Virgil ran the small local bank where most everyone in the area kept their money, Paul included. Lowman was a tough businessman and financial advisor, but had a reputation for honesty.
“I never expected him to show today,” Virgil said, looking at Jake and Thomas. “When Saya died, her family blamed Paul. They claimed that he’d broken her spirit and that her body just lost its will to live. Thomas was always the one who spoke the loudest”
Although Annie didn’t want to hear anyone speak badly of Paul, she knew she had to listen to learn more about her friend. Someone had hated Paul enough to murder him, and the trail to the killer started with Paul himself.
“What happened between Paul and his wife? It must have been very serious for anyone to have made an accusation like that”
“Paul wanted to be the center of Saya’s world and was terribly jealous. He hated the fact that everyone came to her for advice. She was everyone’s confidante.”
“Did he ever mistreat her?” Annie asked in disbelief.
“He never raised a hand to her,” Martin interrupted in a firm voice. “They were mismatched, that was all. Saya was a gentle creature by nature, who tried to help everyone she met, but Paul just didn’t understand her. She needed his support, not constant criticism. The problem was that Paul wasn’t the kind of person who did that well, if at all.”
“But that was such a long time ago, and Paul must have changed quite a bit over the years. He was one of the gentlest men I’ve ever known.”
Virgil nodded. “You’re right. Twenty years ago, I could have given the police a list the size of a phone book filled with people who hated him. But these days, it’s different.”
As Virgil excused himself and moved away, Annie looked back at Martin. “As far as you know, was Paul afraid of anyone?”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “He feared no one, you know that. It just wasn’t in his makeup.” Martin stepped up to the table to help an elderly visitor who’d stopped by with a serving dish of homemade tortillas.
Elsie Muller, the pueblo’s only nurse and Annie’s nurse midwife, came up then and greeted Annie. “You’re looking well,” Elsie said with a satisfied smile.
In the last few months, Annie had grown to know and like the middle-age nurse practitioner who took care of everyone who lived on the pueblo, whether they were traditionalists or modernists. Despite the fact that Elsie was not a Native American, her respect for the tribe’s ways had won the pueblo people’s confidence.
“It’s been such a shock,” Elsie said in a hushed voice. “I can’t remember the last time anyone was murdered around here.”
“I used to think this was the safest place on earth. But I’m beginning to suspect that was mostly an illusion. It seems I’ve misjudged a lot of things. Yesterday, for example, I would have sworn I knew Paul very well,” Annie said slowly. “Now, I just don’t know.”
“I heard Martin telling you about Saya. But he wasn’t being completely honest with you.”
“How so?” Her attention became riveted on Elsie. Because of her role as a nurse practitioner, she knew almost all the pueblo families and their secrets.
“Saya was my friend, and a gifted artist. Oil painting was her passion, but Paul never understood her devotion to it. One night, he confronted Saya in her studio and they had a terrible argument. I never did find out from Saya—or anyone else—what prompted it, but I saw the results. Paul had been in a rage. He never touched her, but he destroyed Saya’s easels, brushes, and every painting she’d had. Saya’s studio, the bunkhouse where you live and work now, was in shambles. After that night, Saya changed. She even gave up painting, something I never thought possible. But their relationship was shattered. As far as I know, they never spoke to each other again, except in public.”
Annie thought of her own work. Chip carving was sometimes the only thing that kept her focused and moving forward with a purpose in mind. She loved the baby with all her heart, but her work was an intrinsic part of her life, too. Sympathy for what Saya had gone through and lost made her ache all over.
“Paul was really hard on the boys, as well, after that,” Elsie continued. “And it got worse, especially after their mother died. Some thought that he was just trying to toughen them up, that he was afraid they’d be too soft because of their easy life. But I always thought that it was all part and parcel of whatever happened that night at the studio.”
“The Paul Black Raven I knew never even raised his voice,” Annie whispered, still stunned over the revelation.
“As he got older, Paul realized he’d lost everything that mattered to him except this ranch. His wife had passed away and his sons were out of his life. He tried to change then, and actually succeeded in a fashion, but it was too late to undo the damage he’d done. He was all alone except for Martin, who’d remained a loyal friend and employee. Then, after many years of being without a family, you came into his life and became like a daughter to him. I really think that you were one of the best things that ever happened to Paul. Through his friendship with you, he finally began to learn that gentleness and kindness were signs of humanity, not weakness.”
Stunned by the revelations, her thoughts drifted back to her first visit to the bunkhouse. In retrospect, maybe she should have asked more questions instead of automatically assuming vandals had broken in and trashed the place. But at the time, no other explanation had seemed plausible. Splattered paint had covered almost everything, including the ceiling beams and floor and, in the debris strewn everywhere, she’d seen traces of canvas.
The sound of loud voices in the next room suddenly interrupted her thoughts. Annie recognized Jake’s voice. He was one of the two men arguing.
“My priority is to find my father’s killer,” Jake was saying. “Everything else is secondary. If you have a grievance, write it down and give it to my lawyer.”
The sound of crashing glass was followed by the dull thud of something slamming against a wall. Along with the others, Annie rushed toward the closed door of the study. The apple cider she’d been drinking sloshed over the side of the cup as she hurried, but there was no time to find a place to set it down.
Annie weaved through the crowd of people and, without hesitation, knocked and simultaneously opened the door. As she entered the study, Annie saw that Jake had his older, heavier uncle pinned to the wall and was holding him there. A framed pen-and-ink sketch of a stallion lay on the floor among the broken glass.
Jake’s strength surprised her. Even more impressive, was the way he was using only the amount of force necessary to neutralize his opponent. He was being as careful as he could be under the circumstances to not hurt his uncle. But the effort to keep himself in control was costing him. She could see the strain and tension etched on his chiseled features. Clearly, holding back was not something that came naturally to Jake.
Hastily placing her cup on the bookcase, she took a step toward the men, then stopped in midstride as Captain Mora came into the room, followed by half
a dozen other men. Moving past her, Mora motioned Jake back and stepped between the men.
“What’s this all about, boys?” Mora stood his ground.
Thomas glowered at Jake and wiped a drop of blood from the comer of his mouth. “You’re just like your father. You have nothing of your mother in you. Look at what you’ve done to the sketch your mother made of your father’s favorite horse.”
Jake picked it up and saw that the glass had cut into the paper, tearing it. Sorrow and regret shadowed his features.
Mora glared at Thomas. “You know better than to come into this house of mourning with that attitude,” Mora clipped. “If you don’t leave now, I’m going to let Jake throw you out.”
“I’m not leaving this place until I get what I came for,” Thomas snapped.
“You’ll probably have to wait until a will is filed before you can take anything out of this house. But I’m listening. What is it you want?” Mora asked.
“I came for my sister’s diary. Her husband would never give it to us, though we were her family. It belongs to us, not Black Raven or his sons. My sister recorded her private thoughts in those pages and our family has wanted that diary since her death. It’s the only thing that might answer all the questions that have continued to divide us, even to this day. It’s our hope that it’ll help us understand, once and for all, why she never came to any of us for help, even after it was clear to everyone that her marriage was destroying her.”
“You’re looking for absolution,” Jake accused. “You want something that will say it was my father’s fault and exonerate all of you. I’m sorry, but I still can’t help you. I don’t have that diary.”
“Save your pity,” Thomas snarled. “Just tell me where your father hid it, or if you really don’t know, help me search for it.”
“Do you have any idea where Paul might have hidden the diary?” Mora asked Thomas.
Jake shook his head. “It’s a big house and I’ve only been back for a day.”
Annie knew Mora was thinking of Paul’s last words and his mention of hidden evidence. If Paul had a hiding place, they all needed to know where it was.
“My sister’s diary is here someplace. Twice before, when Paul was outside working with the horses, I snuck in and searched the house. But there are too many places to look and I ran out of time.”
“You want to press charges, nephew?” Thomas looked at Mora, whose eyebrows were raised.
“No. Not that you don’t deserve it,” Jake muttered.
Thomas met Jake’s cold glare. “But you know where he hid things, don’t you? I can tell you know something, boy. It’s there in your eyes.” He took a step toward Jake, then stopped when Mora blocked his way again. “You probably found the place when you were a kid. Very little slipped past you and your brother when you two were growing up.”
“As I said—” Jake practically bit off the words “—I don’t have my mother’s diary, and I have no idea where it might be.”
Captain Mora looked at Jake, his eyes narrowing. “Are you positive about that, son? Withholding evidence is a crime—just like breaking and entering.” He glanced at Thomas.
“If I find evidence that pertains to the murder of my father, you’ll be the first to have it.”
Mora’s eyes narrowed. “Evaluating evidence is my job, not yours. Your father had a tendency to take things into his own hands, and right now you’re coming across as being just like him. But we have a killer out there who may feel the compulsion to strike again. Don’t make me have to bury two Black Ravens.”
When Jake didn’t reply, Mora escorted Thomas out. Jake and Annie followed them as far as the hall, but then Mora glanced back at Jake. “Let me handle this while you tend to the others here.”
As Mora went outside with Thomas, people clustered in small groups inside the house. A tense silence shrouded the room. Finally, when they all heard the sound of a vehicle rumbling noisily away, everyone began speaking at once.
While Martin calmed the guests, Annie motioned Jake back into the study, which was now empty. “You have a very nasty bruise forming around your left eye, and a small cut over your eyebrow.”
“I’ve had worse,” he said, dabbing the blood with a handkerchief. “I work in construction. Trust me, I can take a punch.”
“You can also raise a lump and get an infection.” She went to the adjoining bathroom and came back holding some antiseptic and a box of Band-Aid strips. “Have a seat. And be careful of that glass still on the floor.”
Annie stood in front of him and dabbed the antiseptic over his cut as gently as she could, but she felt him flinch as the liquid stung him. She looked down quickly to make sure he was okay, but when their gazes met the emotions she saw reflected in his eyes rocked her all the way to the core.
There was awareness of the miracle growing inside her in his gaze. But there was something darker mirrored there, too, an undercurrent of attraction and raw desire. She knew with every bit of intuition she possessed that Jake found her pregnancy only added to her femininity and beauty. Excitement and an aching sense of wonder and vulnerability pulsed through her.
Jake’s gaze scorched her with its intensity as he touched the swell of her stomach, his palm smoothing over her in a light caress. The gesture was made impossibly intimate by the fire smoldering in his eyes. “You’re so incredibly beautiful,” he murmured.
She knew she should move away, but it was as if she were under a spell.
Jake gently pulled her down onto his lap and, framing her face with the palms of his hands, covered her mouth with his own.
She felt the impact of his kiss with every raw nerve in her body. Passion traveled through her in spirals that made her feel deliciously weak. His hands were strong yet unspeakably gentle as he held her, his mouth coaxing and lighting fires too intoxicating to resist.
Time seemed to stand still. Everything faded away but the pleasures of his touch. She gasped as his hand cupped her breast, his fingers toying with her nipple and drawing a bead of precious fluid from them.
The exquisite sensations tore a soft moan from her lips. She had to stop now before logic and caution became nothing more than a memory. This was too reckless and just plain crazy.
She stood up abruptly, almost falling as she did, but he reached out to steady her.
Her breathing was coming in gasps and, as she looked down at him, she saw the same astonishment she felt reflected on his face. It had been too hot, too fast.
She moved back another step, fearful of feelings she couldn’t explain. Needing to stay busy, she began to pick up the first-aid supplies.
“I need a drink,” Jake said, standing.
Annie gestured to the cup of cider she’d left on the bookshelf. “Try that instead. It’s healthier and, since it has no alcohol in it, it won’t mess with your head. From what I’ve seen so far today, that’s a definite advantage.”
With a lopsided grin, Jake picked up the cup and took a sip. As he placed his lips where hers had been, a shiver ran up her spine.
With a grimace, Jake suddenly put the cup down. “I think someone spiked this, but I can’t say I share their tastes,” he said with a cough.
Annie looked at him in alarm. His face was becoming flushed and his lips were quickly turning blue. “Jake?”
Jake tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he dropped back onto the cushions, obviously weakened.
“Martin, Elsie!” Annie yelled at the top of her lungs. “I need help!” Annie sat next to Jake, trying to keep him from collapsing.
As her gaze fell on the cup, a shudder ran up her spine. Someone must have come into the study during all the confusion and added something to her drink. It was the only explanation. Horrified, she realized she and her unborn baby had been the intended victims and by offering Jake a drink, she’d sealed his fate.
Chapter Six
Jake slowly opened his eyes. Where the heck was he? He looked around and tried to focus on the faces of the people around him, but he
couldn’t get his vision to clear. Then, like an instant photo slowly developing before his eyes, he saw Annie standing by his bedside.
Annie covered his hand with her own. “Easy. You’re all right now.”
The warmth of her touch flowed over him, heating every inch of his body like welcome rays of sunshine after a storm.
Seeing old Doc Cassidy and Elsie there, too, Jake realized that he was at the pueblo clinic.
“You’re a very lucky man,” Doc Cassidy said, coming forward to check his pupil response. Apparently satisfied, he stepped back and surveyed his patient. “Do you remember what happened?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed as he tried to recall all the events. “I drank some cider, then it suddenly felt as if my head was going to explode. It kept getting worse until everything went black.”
The doc nodded. “From what Elsie was able to put together, someone added the contents of your father’s nitroglycerine prescription to that cup of cider. We’re not sure how many tablets you actually ingested along with your drink. What saved you was that the pills were old and that they’re meant to be taken beneath the tongue, not diluted in liquid. The effect was much reduced.” He went to the door. “I’ll check on you again in a half hour. The police want to talk to you and I’ve got two other patients waiting.”
Jake tried to sit up but Annie placed her hand on his bare shoulder and pushed him back. “Take it easy for a while. You deserve a rest.”
Someone had removed his shirt, and the touch of her hand on his bare chest sent a tremor through him.
“Have you been with me all this time?” he asked.
She nodded.
As he looked into her eyes, he saw the worry and concern she’d felt reflected there. But something else also glimmered in those twin hazel pools. For several seconds he struggled to identify the emotion he’d seen, then it suddenly hit him. Annie was feeling guilty. “This wasn’t your fault,” he assured her.
“I gave you my drink,” she said, her voice breaking halfway.
“There was no way you could have known.” She stood beside the bed, tears moistening her eyes, and it was all he could do to not pull her toward him.