by Linda Style
“I’ve got a few ideas. But I’ll have to keep them to myself for a while. I’m going into town in a few minutes, but I’ll call and let you know what’s happening.”
“I’m coming along.”
“It’s better if you don’t.”
She didn’t like the sound of that, but from his tone she could tell he wouldn’t change his mind. So she didn’t push. She’d call Annie and tell her what had happened. Maybe she’d have some ideas.
After J.D. left, Maddy busied herself with Zelda, and brought the dog inside to keep her company while she worked in the kitchen. A few hours later, she heard a car outside and rushed to the door, hoping J.D. was home with good news.
He wasn’t there, not in back where he usually parked. Then she heard a knock at the front. Hurrying, she picked up Zelda and went to answer. At the door, through the glass, she saw a woman’s familiar form. She grabbed the knob and yanked open the door.
“Maddy, sweetheart.”
“Hello, Mother.”
“Ohhhh.” Her mother screamed and jumped back. “What are you doing with that…that animal?”
Maddy smiled. At last she could prove something to her mother. “This is Zelda.” Maddy ruffled the dog’s hair and scratched behind one ear. “Here…” Maddy held Zelda out. “Would you like to hold her?”
Rachel Inglewood fanned herself with one hand, her lips pursed and her head pulled back. “I don’t like dogs. You know that. Not after…well, you know.”
“I know. But I’m the one who was traumatized, and if I can get over it, so can you.”
Rachel sputtered a few times, obviously taken aback. “Madeline. Is that any way to talk to your mother, someone who’s had only your best interests at heart for your whole life?”
Guilt. And her mother was right. No one cared about Maddy the way her family did. It was just that standing here holding Zelda, she suddenly felt liberated. “I know that, Mother. I just wanted to show you how good it’s been for me to be here. I’ve gotten over my cynophobia. Well, at least with Zelda.”
“That’s wonderful, dear. Now can I please come inside?”
“I’m sorry. I guess the informality of the ranch has caused me to forget my manners.”
Rachel sniffed. “That will never happen, sweetheart. You’re an Inglewood.”
That she was. And her mother would always remind her of it. “C’mon in and I’ll pour you some coffee.”
Her mother followed her into the kitchen. “Does the animal have to stay here? I feel a little queasy.”
“No, she has her own place. Come and see.” She led her mother to the back. Rachel walked outside, hiking her purse under her arm as she did. Maddy felt a rush of affection for the woman who looked so out of place, with her cream-colored silk pantsuit, pearl earrings and blond hair always worn in a classic, elegant bob. At sixty, her mother was still an attractive woman.
“That’s Zelda’s house.” Maddy pointed to the White House and went down the steps to let Zelda into her run.
“Oh, my goodness,” Rachel said. “You know, I saw a house just like that on one of those news programs a couple years back. It was built for the dog in a television series. I can’t remember the name.”
Maddy didn’t think Zelda’s past was any big secret, but she should check with J.D. before revealing anything he’d told her. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Rivera about that. Maybe Zelda is a celebrity.”
Back inside, facing her mother, Maddy asked, “So what brings you here this time?”
THAT MORNING, the first person J.D. went to see was Gladys Hackert. Remembering what Maddy had said, he realized that Gladys might have some information that he could use as leverage to strike a deal with Charlie Masterson. Because making a deal with Charlie was J.D.’s only option. If anyone had any influence with the authorities, it was Charlie.
Sitting in the living room of his old teacher’s home, he listened as Gladys told him the same thing she’d told Maddy—that many people believed Ethel was involved with the fire. Nothing there to help him.
“Okay. I guess that’s what I wanted to know.” J.D. stood up to leave.
“You might also want to ask Charlie what his son was doing in the barn when it caught on fire,” Gladys said with a glint in her eyes.
“And ask the sheriff how your father escaped that night.”
Very interesting. All questions he’d asked himself at one time or another, but which hadn’t seemed to go anywhere in clearing his father’s name. He thanked Gladys, then headed for Collier’s office to see if Benito was there.
“Sheriff?” J.D. knocked on the back door of the jail. No answer. Damn. They’d probably gone directly to the border station last night, and the sheriff was no doubt sleeping late after putting more notches in his roundup belt.
Since Benito was already gone, the only thing left to do was to go see old Charlie. Within ten minutes J.D. was at the gates of the Masterson estate. Another car, a sedan, was parked on the circular driveway in front.
J.D. drove in and pulled up behind the other vehicle, a Lexus, he noticed when he got closer. Charlie kept all his vehicles, including his vintage collection, in the twelve-car garage in back, so J.D. knew Charlie had a visitor. He got out and climbed the steps, lifted the heavy door knocker and brought it down three times.
Waiting, he noticed the paint on the place was a little chipped, and the yard wasn’t as immaculate as before.
No answer. He knocked again, then craned his neck to look in the window. He saw nothing. Maybe Charlie was out back with his vehicles. He stepped down and walked across the grass and around the perimeter of the house, avoiding the thorny bougainvillea that surrounded the place. A sweet floral scent gave the warm morning a sultry southern feel.
As he came to the corner he heard voices raised in anger. He stopped. Maybe Charlie was chewing out the help. Then the voices rose a little more. One of them sounded familiar. He peered around the corner and saw two men facing off in the yard—the sheriff and old Charlie. He inched closer, hidden by the plants now.
“You botched that one,” Charlie said.
“I did my job. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Rivera can’t finish the place without workers to help him.”
J.D.’s muscles tensed, his hands curled into fists. If they believed that delaying him would make him leave, they didn’t know him at all.
“The longer he stays, the bigger the risk. And now that woman is making things worse for my farms.”
“Screw your farms. Ethel is gone. That leaves only you and me who knows what really happened. It was thirty-five years ago, for crying out loud. Even if Rivera sticks around, he isn’t going to find out the truth, and if by some chance he does, no one in town will believe anything he says, anyway. He’s a Rivera. And as far as that teacher goes, she’s leaving soon. I’ll just make sure she doesn’t upset anything before then. After that it’s business as usual.”
Interesting. From their conversation, it was obvious that Ethel had known something about the fire, and they were worried about it getting out. He might be able to use that to his advantage, and—a surge of excitement ran through him—he might even be able to clear his father’s name.
He stepped out. “Howdy, gentlemen.”
Both men jerked around. “You’re trespassin’, Rivera,” the sheriff said.
“Yeah? Well, I was thinking you might want to invite me in for a chat.”
The two men eyed each other. “We’ve got nothing to talk about.” Charlie spat a line of chewing tobacco into the grass.
“Oh? But we do. Specifically, the letter my aunt Ethel left for me,” J.D. bluffed.
A flicker of panic flashed in the sheriff’s eyes. “She’s a lying bitch, and I told her that when I kicked her out of my place.” His face was red and he was having trouble breathing.
“Shut up, you idiot!” Charlie rounded on him, his mouth twisted in disgust. “You don’t even know what he’s talking about.” He swung around to face J.D. “She died suddenly. S
he didn’t have time to write any letters.”
“The letter was written well before she died. I guess she couldn’t keep all those secrets to herself anymore. You can call her attorney and verify the letter.” J.D. pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open.
When nobody moved, he tucked the phone back in his pocket and continued. “I know my father was framed, and I have a letter to prove it.” He walked closer, staring them down, Charlie first and then the sheriff. He was taller than Charlie by almost a foot and he stood eye to eye with Collier.
“But there’s something I want and I’m willing to deal.”
The sheriff darted an anxious glance at Charlie, whose face was locked in a grimace, his eyes as cold and flat as ice. J.D. didn’t wait for a response. “I want supplies made available to me while I’m renovating the ranch. If I need carpenters or other craftsmen, I expect them to be available, too.”
“That’s it?” the sheriff said, his expression puzzled.
“No. I want the boy, Benito Perez, brought back to Los Rios with a visa or whatever it takes to keep him here.”
The sheriff shrugged and looked at Charlie. “I— I don’t have that kind of influence.”
“No, but Charlie knows how to make things happen.” He started walking away. “Oh, and one more thing. The La Mancha Ranches need to start providing some employee benefits and paying minimum wage with time and a half for anything over forty hours. Let me know before noon if we’ve got a deal.”
“That’s blackmail. I could have the sheriff haul your ass in right now.”
J.D. shrugged and held out his wrists to the sheriff. “While he’s doing it, maybe he’d like to explain how my father escaped.” He glared at the sheriff. “Or would you like me to do it. I’d like nothing more than to call a press conference right this minute. I might even want to talk about what Charlie Jr. was doing in the barn that night.”
Silence hung in the air for the longest time. And then Charlie slowly lifted his chin. He brought himself up as straight as he could and cleared his throat. “If a guy were disposed to try and help you out with those things, just because he’s a nice guy, what guarantee would he have that you can be trusted?”
“You have my word.” It was all he had. It was all his father had had. “Take it or leave it.”
“WE NEED YOU AT HOME, Maddy. Your father is lost without you, and Randy, no matter how hard he tries, can’t seem to do the job like you did.” They were on their way down the hallway to Maddy’s room so her mother could wash up.
Maddy stopped cold. “Well, maybe Daddy can hire someone else then,” she said, a familiar feeling of guilt coming over her.
“We tried. It’s not the same. Your father doesn’t like other people knowing all our business.”
The same old argument. “Even if I came back now, which won’t happen, I’ll be leaving for New York in a few weeks. You’re going to have to get used to the idea sooner or later.”
“We could buy you a house—your own house. You wouldn’t have to stay with us, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
Maddy sighed heavily. “That’s really nice, Mother. But that’s exactly the kind of thing I don’t want to do. I don’t want to be dependent on you and Dad—or anyone else. I want to make my way in life by myself.”
Rachel wiped her forehead and then fanned her face with one hand. “I haven’t been feeling at all well lately, and worrying about you all the time just seems to make me feel worse.”
Guilt, guilt, guilt. “Why didn’t you forward the letter from Mr. Martin to me?”
“The letter?”
“The one Mr. Martin told me he sent certified to your house. Someone signed for it.”
“Oh, that. Well, I didn’t think you’d need it since you’d already left for Arizona.” She shrugged in dismissal. “I’m so worried about you, dear. Look at you—look at this place. And remember what happened when you were away at school… Just thinking about that makes me sick with worry, so much that I fear I’m going to have a heart attack. I think of that and all the other things that caused you distress and how fragile you are, and I can hardly get through the day. You need us, Madeline. You need people who are there for you—who can pick you up when you fall.”
As her mother rattled on, everything suddenly became clear. Her mother’s problem was that—with Maddy gone—she had no one to worry about. Rachel Inglewood took care of her family; that was what she did. And if her family didn’t need her anymore, she felt worthless.
Maddy took a breath. Focus on the goal. Her mother would be fine. She’d find a charity to get involved in.
“Mom—” she took her mother’s hand “—I appreciate everything you and Daddy have done for me. I truly do. God knows, I couldn’t have made it through some tough times without your support. But I’m stronger now. And that’s good. And I hope it’s what you always wanted for me. I need to be in charge of my own life. I’ve worked hard to make my dreams come true, and it would be nice to know that you and Daddy were happy for me.”
“What if you fail? Then all your hard work will be for nothing.”
“There’s no failure in trying. The failure is in not trying. And I know all about that. I’ve done it for years.” Admitting that, saying those words, boosted her self-confidence another notch—and it gave her a strange sense of power. “If I fail, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I tried my best. That’s all anyone can do.”
“But—”
“I’m going to New York, Mother.”
A noise sounded behind Maddy. She swung around to see J.D. standing in the archway. “Oh, J.D., I didn’t hear you come in.”
IF HE’D EVER BELIEVED there might be a future for him and Maddy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. The woman knew what she wanted, and what she wanted wasn’t in Los Rios or at the Tripplehorne Ranch.
The point had never been made more clear.
After greeting Rachel, J.D. went into his bedroom and shut the door. It hurt to hear how much Maddy wanted to leave, but he silently cheered her on for standing firm with her mother.
God, his head ached. He reached into the shower, turned on the water full blast and stripped off his clothes. What he’d accomplished today was good. He could only hope that Charlie would follow through. But even if he didn’t, J.D. felt a sense of relief.
He had confirmation that his father had been framed, and now both Charlie and the sheriff were aware that he knew about the lie they’d sold to the town for so many years. That alone gave him an enormous amount of satisfaction.
He’d probably never know what had really happened. Did it even matter anymore? He couldn’t bring his parents back and he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was move forward and, as Maddy had said, make each day count. Maybe someday the truth would come out, but not now—not if he wanted to see some changes in Los Rios.
“Hey, cowboy. You in there?”
Maddy’s voice.
“Yeah, c’mon in. I’ll be right out.”
He rinsed off the soap and wrapped a white towel around his midsection. She was sitting on the edge of the bed when he came out of the bathroom.
“Mother’s gone.” Maddy said. “I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings.”
“She’ll survive.”
“Yes,” she said wistfully. “I suppose she will.” A look of concern crossed her face. “Were you able to do anything about Benito?”
Standing in front of her, he ran a hand through his wet hair and slicked it back. “Yeah. I think so. But it’s going to take a little time.”
“Will he be able to come back?”
“It’s not a done deal, but yes, I think it’ll happen. There are lots of things to sort through, including finding out if he has any family in Mexico. I’ll be working with some social workers and other officials on it. Charlie Masterson has agreed to help, and if anyone can set things in motion, he can.”
Her eyes lit up. “How on earth did you manage that?”
“Charm and savoir faire.�
�� He grinned. Damn, it made him feel good to see her so happy. “Masterson’s also going to see what he can do about getting me supplies and ensuring the migrant workers receive health benefits and minimum wage plus time and a half for work over forty hours.”
She jumped up and hugged him. Kissed him. “And the other men?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But my gut feeling is that they’ll be back sooner or later.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“DID YOU KNOW that Charlie Masterson and Mayor Sikes are partners in the corporation that owns La Mancha Ranches?” Maddy asked J.D. after her class that same evening. She gathered up some papers.
“Yes, but how do you know that?”
“Annie got the information from public records. And if that’s true, I can’t imagine Masterson agreeing to go along with everything you asked for since it will affect him financially.”
“We’ll see. We made a deal.”
“That sounds ominous. If he’s the kind of man you said he is, what would make him do it?”
“He thinks I have some information about my father’s death and he wants me to keep it quiet.”
“And do you know something?”
His eyes sparkled. “No. But as long as he believes I do, it doesn’t matter.”
It was a side of him she hadn’t seen. She laughed. “I didn’t know you had a devious side.” She pulled up a chair and sat at the table.
J.D. sat in the chair next to her, his expression suddenly turning somber. “This came in the mail for you today.” He handed her a letter.
The postmark was New York, the return address… “Ohmygod. This is it.” Her breath left her lungs. She looked up at J.D. “What if they don’t want me? What if—”
“Just open the damn thing.”
Her hands shook as she ripped one corner, trying not to disturb anything inside or even the official-looking stamp. As she slowly, carefully, drew out the letter, she felt beads of perspiration trickle down her face. She lifted the paper to read.
“Oh!” she called out. “Oh, oh, oh. I got it.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “They want me.”