by Helen Conrad
She looked at him quickly, aghast that she’d told him so much. He would laugh at her. Or say something snide.
But he didn’t. He drove on, and when she didn’t continue, he asked, “Did you want ribbons and slinky dresses, too?”
“No, I didn’t. I wanted a...oh, a new saddle, maybe.” But deep inside she suddenly knew a truth she’d never admitted to herself. She had wanted ribbons in her hair. She had wanted the boys to ask her to dance. But she didn’t want to think about that now.
Michael glanced over and saw her determined face. “So is Fred still mad?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“By all indications, I imagine he is.”
“And what makes you think he’s going to welcome us on his doorstep?”
“I don’t. Time will tell.” Her right hand went to her left wrist in an absentminded gesture natural to her. But something was missing. “My bracelet,” she muttered, turning and going on her knees to reach into the back seat. Michael switched on the interior light to help her. “Jimmy must have dropped it back here,” she said as she shoved her hand down between the cushions, searching every cranny.
“Nothing?” Michael asked as she slowly sank back into her seat.
She shook her head, her mind going over every possibility—and shying from the obvious. “I just don’t understand,” she said. “Could it have dropped out of the car when we stopped in Bullhead City?”
He gritted his teeth. For a woman who laid claim to a tough exterior, she sure did have a squishy center. “I don’t think so,” he said solemnly. “I think the kid has it.”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly, twisting her braid in her hand. “No, I’m sure he—“
“Do you remember him giving it back after you handed it to him to look at?”
“N-n-no,but...”
“Face it, Jessie. He’s got it.”
She didn’t want to accept that at all. It hurt too much. “Then it must have been an accident.”
Michael snorted. “Sure. He just accidentally dropped it into his pocket and forgot to tell you.”
“He wouldn’t steal from me!”
Michael threw her a dark look. “He got to you good, didn’t he?” he noted softly.
Yes. He’d gotten to her good. But that wasn’t all. If Jimmy turned out to be a thief, what did that say about her judgment? About trusting people? About... Michael?
“Let’s go back and ask him then, if you’re so sure. Let’s get his side of the story.”
“I’m not about to turn back on this journey, Jessie. You know we can’t.” He hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. “Anyway, you saw how he ran off. He won’t be easy to find. He’s probably fencing it right now.”
Her face was a battleground of mixed emotions. He looked at her and felt a twist of sympathy. “Hey,” he said more gently. “Don’t take it so hard. He’s a street kid, living off his own smarts. He takes what he can in order to survive. You’ve got to understand. That bracelet represents a few hot meals for his family.”
But to her it represented a lot of other things. And the loss of it hurt. She’d trusted him. She’d developed a genuine affection for the boy and he’d stolen from her, knowing the way she felt. Did that mean that affection, caring, didn’t change anything?
She swallowed hard and tried to put her mind on something else, but the question still haunted her. If Jimmy had turned out to be so untrustworthy, what about the man beside her?
The car roared on through the black night, a lonely light traveling across a barren landscape. Jessie felt cold and alone and thought longingly about her warm bed at home. Hers was a nice life, after all, with nothing to worry about but keeping the stock in shape and getting money to keep on going. At least those problems were real and straightforward. With Michael, she wasn’t sure where to step, what was real, what was illusion.
“Turn here,” she said as they passed a row of dark cinder cones she recognized. She sat up straighter in the seat as they traveled down a bumpy dirt road. “There it is. My uncle’s ranch.”
The sign for the Three Bar Cross was hanging by one rusty chain. In the headlights she caught a glimpse of tumbleweeds packed three feet deep against the fence. She licked her lips nervously as Michael pulled the car up before the low ranch house.
Dogs were barking, but they must have been tied up because they didn’t appear. Jessie got out of the car carefully, just in case. The front door opened and her uncle stood silhouetted against the light from outside.
“Who’s out there?” he called sharply.
“Uncle Fred? It’s Jessie. Jessie Carrington. Do you remember me?” She came closer, into the light from the house, and it was almost as though she were stepping back in time. Only this time everything was different. Michael was with her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tightening The Noose
The man was graying, heavyset, older than she remembered him. His weathered face stared at her for a moment, then broke into a delighted smile. “Jessie! I haven’t seen you since... come here, girl. My, how you’ve grown up. You look like a rancher’s daughter. Indeed you do. I always knew you’d stay true to type.”
Emotion surged in her chest. He looked a lot like Harley. “I’ve got somebody with me.” She motioned for Michael to step out of the shadows. “This is Michael, Uncle Fred. We’re going to California together.”
“Traveling together, huh?” Fred frowned as he looked Michael over. “What are you doing with this city slicker, girl?”
Jessie was glad it was still dark enough that he likely couldn’t see her blush. “I...”
“We’re getting married, sir,” Michael broke in without a glance her way. “In Los Angeles.”
Jessie stared at him, caught between confusion and resentment. He didn’t have to lie to her uncle. Maybe they didn’t have to tell him the whole truth, but she didn’t like lying.
Fred grunted. “Having the honeymoon first?” he asked dryly. “What’s Harley got to say about this?”
Jessie cleared her throat, but before she could fabricate a plausible answer, Fred shook his head and turned toward the house. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. You’re a grown woman. I guess you can do what you please. Though God knows why all the females in this family are demented when it comes to choosing men. Come on in the house. Cerise is here. She’ll be glad to see you.”
Jessie wasn’t so sure that was true, but she and Michael followed him in, anyway. Cerise rose from the worn couch where she’d been sitting listening to pop tunes on her ipod. Her china blue eyes met Jessie’s and narrowed immediately.
“Well, well, look who’s here. On a peace mission? Or just spying?”
Jessie looked from her blond cousin to her uncle, taken aback by the woman’s sarcasm.
“That’ll do, Cerise,” Fred said shortly. “We’ll have none of that. Jessie’s getting married and she stopped by to introduce us to her fiance. This here’s Michael.”
When Cerise’s gaze fell on Michael, she changed before their eyes. A coy expression crossed her face, her hand went to her hair, smoothing it and her eyes widened. “Well, hello,” she said sweetly. “Where on earth did Jessie find you?”
Michael smiled as he took her hand in his, and watching, Jessie realized just how devastatingly handsome he really was. Her heart contracted a little as he and Cerise chatted, Cerise flirting, Michael taking it as his due. Women must act like this around him all the time, she told herself. So what?
So everything. Cerise fluffed the full skirt of her sundress and arched her back to make the most of her physical attributes, and it was fifteen years ago again, with Jessie in cowboy boots and Cerise getting the guys.
Cerise invited Michael to sit on the couch beside her. Jessie slumped down into a rattan chair while Fred went to the kitchen to get a round of sodas for everyone. Trying to keep her eyes off the man and woman laughing together in front of her, she gazed around the room, remembering things, noting new items.
The place h
ad a surprisingly run-down air about it. She always thought of Fred as a go-getter, a man who knew how to turn a buck. And hadn’t Harley said something a few years ago about Fred’s coming into money? If so, he must have found a way to lose it fast. Jessie stared at a broken window pane and wondered.
“Go ahead and gape, Jessie,” Cerise’s shrill voice cut into her reverie. “Take a good look.” Her blue eyes flashed. “Sad, isn’t it? And this house used to be so nice.”
“It’s still very nice,” Jessie began, puzzled by her cousin’s attitude. They’d never been good friends, but they’d never been enemies before. Why was she acting as though they were? Jessie decided to ignore the situation and pretend all was well. “I see Uncle Fred is allowing computers into the house now. And a telephone,” she added, noting the one that hung on the wall. “In the old days he’d rail against such modern conveniences for hours at a time.”
Cerise’s face softened a little. “Yes,” she said, her mind obviously on memories, too. “I guess he’s given up on ‘raising us right.’ It’s too late for that.” She frowned. “It’s too late for a lot of things around here,” she said, staring at Jessie.
Fred returned with the drinks. “Settle down, Cerise,” he said mildly. “You know very well just as soon as this jojoba bean thing gets rolling—“
“Oh, you and your old beans!” To Jessie’s surprise, tears sparkled in Cerise’s eyes and her voice trembled. “Everybody knows you’re crazy.”
Ignoring her outburst, Fred placidly passed around the glasses of soda. “Yes, sir, these jojoba beans are the thing of the future,” he said, directing his statement mainly to Michael. “I’ve got my entire spread planted with the damn things now. Do you know that a healthy plant will produce up to ten pounds of beans a year? Ten pounds!”
Michael nodded his appreciation of that stunning fact. “Are they good eating?” he asked innocently.
Fred stared at him. “Eating? Hell, no! You don’t eat ‘em. You get oil from them. Haven’t you heard?”
Michael stifled a smile. “I guess not.”
“Sure. The oil from jojoba beans is almost exactly like the oil they used to get from sperm whales, only now you’re not allowed to get stuff from sperm whales anymore, so this here oil’s going to be as precious—“
“As sperm oil used to be, which isn’t so very,” intoned Cerise. “At least not when every other ranch is growing the stuff.”
“You just wait.” He shook a finger at his daughter. “You just wait, missy. You’re going to see something once this thing gets rolling.”
“Dreamer,” Cerise scoffed, but her eyes were as full of hopeless affection as they were of exasperation.
“How’s your husband?” Jessie asked Cerise, hoping to change the subject. “Paul, wasn’t it?”
“It was once,” said Cerise, turning her glass in her hands, her blood-red nails gleaming against the liquid. “It is no more. We’re divorced.”
“Oh.” So much for a change in subject. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No-good louse,” Fred grumbled. “Mandy is divorced, too, living in Reno. And that sleazy gambler Sheri married in Las Vegas...”
“Oh, Sam’s okay, Daddy.”
“He is not okay. If that polecat doesn’t work for the Mob, I’ll eat my hat.”
“Oh, Daddy.”
“I don’t understand you girls.” Fred’s worried gaze settled on Jessie. “Why do you keep messing with these city boys when there are good solid ranchers all over the place who’d be happy to have you?”
“Be happy to work you to death, you mean,” Cerise muttered.
“You especially, Jessie,” he went on, as though he hadn’t heard Cerise. “I never ever figured you to fall for that type. Why, you were born to ranch, girl.” He turned with a nod to Michael. “No offense, mister, but it’s true.” His pale eyes were back on Jessie. “I mean, look at him, honey. In his suit, with them pointy little shoes. He’s not going to be any good on your ranch, and you know it.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Cerise groaned, “he might just be so good at other things, Jessie doesn’t care about his ranching talent.”
Jessie had just about had enough of Cerise. She wasn’t sure how to take her, resenting her one moment, feeling sorry for her the next. Something slashed through her whenever the woman smiled at Michael. Jealousy. She knew what it was, but she couldn’t admit even to herself just why that should be. And she was too tired to try to figure it all out right now. “Could we stay here tonight, Uncle Fred?” she asked, her dark eyes imploring him.
“Can’t afford a hotel?” Cerise asked acidly. “Las Vegas is only another hour up the road.”
“Cerise!” Fred’s voice was furious. “I’ve had enough of that spitefulness. Jessie didn’t ever do us any harm. She can’t help it if her father...” His voice faded and he shook his head. “We’d be proud to have them, wouldn’t we? They can take Mandy’s room and Shed’s.”
Jessie was more confused than ever, not sure just what her father was supposed to have done to Fred, not really caring. She had other things on her mind. For once Cerise didn’t have an answer. They drained their glasses and she meekly helped set up the bedrooms for the two travelers to use.
“No luggage?” she asked at one point while showing Jessie where things were in Mandy’s old room and the bathroom that bridged the space to Sheri’s room, in which Michael was staying.
“No.” Jessie was too tired to make up an excuse.
Cerise hesitated, then pointed to a drawer. “That’s full of nightgowns. Go ahead and use one.”
Fred and Cerise said good-night and Jessie faced Michael in the hall. His silver-blue eyes were wary, not warming when they met hers.
“So far so good,” he said softly, his fingers already unbuttoning his white shirt.
She nodded, her gaze lingering on the smooth, muscular chest he was revealing. “They don’t know anything.” His hands looked dark and strong against the white fabric. She waited for a moment, remembering the encounter in the woods near Flagstaff and wondering where that passionate man had gone. Michael appeared to be a stranger now. She could feel the distance between them.
“What happens tomorrow?” she asked.
“I go on. But I’ve been thinking, Jessie. You’d better go on home.”
A chill swept through her. “But I thought I was going to stay with you until—“
“I’m going to leave before dawn tomorrow,” he said shortly. “So I guess this is goodbye.”
She was stunned. She hadn’t allowed herself to think ahead, but if she had, she would never have thought he was going to disappear from her life so suddenly. Irrationally she wanted to reach for him, to say, No! No, I have to go with you to make sure—
Make sure of what? That he was going to find the man he was looking for? That he was going to be all right?
“Look at it this way,” he was saying. “I trust you now. I know you won’t go straight to the cops and turn me in. Even for that reward money.”
The reward money. That was what had started this crazy ride across the countryside. The money seemed remote now, hardly worth remembering.
“Goodbye, Jessie,” he murmured, but she was still in a daze and hardly understood. “Thanks for everything. I’m sorry I disrupted your life like this.”
He hesitated for another moment and still she stood absolutely silent, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. He reached for her and she moved into his arms, and then he was kissing her, softly, lingeringly, breathlessly. Finally he pulled away, something hardening in his face. Swearing, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the bedroom.
Jessie went into the other bedroom. Moving mechanically, she took a hot shower and put on a long white gown she’d found in the drawer. She dried her hair and brushed it out, then slipped into bed with a sigh, more than ready for sleep to come and blot out everything else. But sleep wasn’t cooperating tonight. Too many thoughts invaded her head, and soon she was staring at the ceiling.
It was over. The ride on Michael Drayton’s roller coaster was finished and it was time to get off. She was free to go back to her sane, sober life on the ranch, free to return to normal.
But she would never see him again. Why was that so impossible for her mind to accept? “I will never see Michael again,” she said aloud into the empty room, and something inside her cringed and twisted and refused to come to terms with that concept. She tossed and turned and struggled with acceptance for another half hour before she rose from her bed and padded to the door. As she listened intently, it seemed to her that the entire household was asleep. Gliding as silently as possible, she let herself out the front door and stepped into the dark. Not even the dogs heard her go.
“Well?” Sky Matthews turned and looked expectantly at the young man who’d just entered his office. “What is it? Where is he?”
The visitor shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Matthews. There’s no news out of Arizona. Nobody knows where he is.”
Sky swore harshly and obscenely and the young employee beat a hasty retreat through the office door. Sky rose and stalked to the huge windows that overlooked the glittering lights of San Francisco and the bay beyond.
They’d grown soft, all of them. In the old days he’d have had Michael back here in front of his desk within twenty-four hours. The boys who’d worked for him then had been pros who’d dedicated their lives to the business. Nowadays all you could get were these weaklings who wanted to be home by dinnertime and take vacations at Lake Tahoe. It was no wonder his business was going to pot.
His secretary buzzed. “Call from a Mr. Keel in Las Vegas, Mr. Matthews.”
Sky looked at the phone with dread. More bad news. He could feel it. Keel was a gambler who occasionally called in tips for him. “Okay. I’ll take the call in here.” He lifted the receiver. “What you got for me, Keel?”