The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories

by Juliette Harper

  "Well, I will just be damned," Kate said from her post leaning against a tree trunk. "They're beautiful."

  Since most of the furnishings were either built-in or packed with the containers, it took the sisters only a couple of hours to move Jenny in, unpacking the boxes that had arrived the week before from New York.

  As the sun set, they took up chairs under the awning and drank the champagne Mandy produced with a flourish -- complete with crystal flutes and a platter of fruit and cheese.

  She colored when Jenny thanked her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "I thought we should give you a little housewarming," Mandy said, clearly pleased with her success.

  "It's perfect," Jenny said, stretching out her legs with a sigh. "We'll do the same thing when your place is ready."

  "You mean if it's ever ready," Mandy groaned. "How was I supposed to know putting a jetted tub in the bathroom would require reinforcing the floor?"

  "Baby Sister," Kate said with amusement, "when they built the house the tub was outside and they didn't have running water. You're asking a lot out of that old place."

  "It will be drop dead gorgeous when I'm done," Mandy declared firmly.

  "I do not doubt it," Kate said, holding her glass out for a refill.

  "Are we ready for Saturday?" Jenny asked, biting into a strawberry.

  "I think so. We borrowed every table from every church in town. The boys and their wives are going to do the cooking over open pits. The dance floor is going up Friday night, and there's enough goat and brisket to feed Coxey's Army," Kate said.

  "Do you even know who Coxey was or why he had an army?" Jenny asked, as if the idea had just occurred to her.

  "None whatsoever," Kate grinned. "Any more than I know who Cooter Brown was or why he was so drunk."

  "I never thought much about how we say that kind of thing down here until I moved up North," Jenny laughed. "The first time I said 'calf rope' to a Yankee the guy looked at me like I had two heads."

  "What were you done with when you said it?" Kate asked.

  "Him," Jenny answered with a grin.

  "Can't you just hear Daddy," Mandy said, lapsing into her best Langston Lockwood voice. "'Sent his saddle home, eh girl?'"

  Jenny countered with her own imitation; "Don't be leaving the latch string out for that one, little gal."

  "And my personal favorite," Kate said, pausing to wait for her sisters, who joined in on cue, "He's worthless as tits on a boar hog, Sister."

  Wiping tears of laugher from her eyes, Jenny said, "Daddy is a hell of a lot funnier on the third glass of champagne."

  "That's for damned sure," Kate agreed.

  Out of the gathering dusk a voice called out, "Hello the house!"

  "What the hell . . ." Kate twisted in her chair and peered across the fence.

  "It's Josh Baxter," the voice said.

  "Come on over, Baxter," Kate said. "But walk down to the gate. Don't you go ruining my fence."

  "Yes, ma’am," came the cheerful reply. The sound of his boots moved away followed by the rattle of the latch chain and the creaking of hinges.

  "Katie!" Jenny hissed. "Why did you do that?!"

  "It's called being neighborly," Kate hissed back. "Something the Lockwoods need to get better at."

  Josh came marching out of the darkness, immediately removing his hat in the presence of the ladies. Jenny had to admit his manners won him a point or two in her book. Minor points, but points.

  Glancing around and seeing no fourth chair, Josh dropped into a comfortable squat, resting his forearms on his knees. "This place could be on the cover of an architectural magazine," he said.

  "Do you always wander around other people's pastures at dark thirty?" Jenny asked, eyeing him over the rim of her glass.

  "Oh, Jenny, for heaven's sake," Mandy said, holding out the bottle to Josh. "There aren't any more glasses, but there's a little champagne left in the bottle."

  Josh accepted the champagne, tipping up the bottle and taking a drink. "Oh," he said with appreciation. "Nice. You didn't get this down at the Quick Stop. One of your UPS deliveries?"

  Mandy laughed. "The driver says I'm about to break his record for most deliveries to the same address. My competition is a woman in town who buys stuff from QVC and Amazon."

  "You'll take her down," Josh said, grinning. "You must be Mandy."

  "I'm sorry, Baxter," Kate said, "I thought you two had met."

  "No," he said, "I've only had the pleasure of knocking one Lockwood girl on her . . . uh . . ."

  "Ass?" Mandy suggested innocently.

  "Okay, you two, enough," Jenny huffed indignantly. "Horsefly spooked when I was standing up in the stirrups. Anybody would have gotten thrown."

  "All my fault," Josh said. "I gunned the engine. There's a good slope up there and I was acting like a kid."

  "I still want an answer about what you're doing wandering around out here in the dark," Jenny said, but with less of an edge to her tone.

  "I'm on my way home. I was down at the river and lost track of time. It's shorter coming this way. I hope it's okay."

  "It's fine," Kate said. "In fact, I'm glad you came by. I planned to stop at your place tomorrow and ask you to the barbecue we're throwing on Saturday." She ignored the look Jenny threw in her direction and forged on. "We appreciate the way you talked to Jack Swinton for us and went to all the trouble to make copies of your pictures for the investigation."

  "Did anything come of it?" Josh asked.

  "Not so far. He agrees there are some odd things about Daddy's . . . death . . . but there's not enough evidence to call it murder."

  "But you think it was," he said.

  "We all do," Jenny said.

  "Langston wasn't the easiest man in the world to get along with," Josh said, shifting his weight to the other leg, "but a cranky disposition doesn't usually get a feller murdered."

  "If we could figure out who was in the car," Mandy said, "maybe we could understand more about what was going on with Daddy that day. I mean, the person doesn't have to be the killer. Maybe they could tell us if something was wrong that would have made Daddy . . . do something . . . like that."

  "We don't get a lot of regular cars out here on these roads," Kate said. "Too rough."

  "Langston did make old George Fisk drive out here," Josh said.

  "How do you know that?" Kate asked, sitting up.

  "I was here one day, bringing Langston that framed picture of the heron. George Fisk drove up with some papers for your Daddy to sign, just fit to be tied because Langston refused to come to the office. There was some time limit on them and Langston made Fisk himself come out here."

  "But Mr. Fisk is crippled up," Mandy said indignantly. "That was mean of Daddy."

  "Well, Fisk was giving him hell. The two of them were cussing each other up one side and down the other," Josh said. "But that was months ago."

  "John said his Dad and ours had a falling out," Kate said. "He told me at the funeral when he came up to the car at the church."

  "I hardly think a man in his late 70s who walks with a cane came out here and forced Daddy to shoot himself," Jenny said. "That doesn't even make sense."

  "No, of course not," Kate said. "I just want to know what the fight was about." She lapsed into a contemplative silence for a moment, then shook her head as if to clear the thoughts away. "Well, anyhow, you coming to the barbecue Baxter?"

  "Sure, I'd love to!" he said shooting Jenny a hopeful glance which she ignored. He stood up. "Reckon I better get on home now. Thanks for the champagne."

  "Can you find your way in the dark?" Kate asked. "I don't mind driving you home."

  "No, no," he said. "I wander around at all hours. Can't sleep worth a flip. Never been able to. I'm good."

  He said his good-byes and walked back down to the gate. They heard the chain rattle as he put the latch in place and listened to the sound of his footsteps fade into the distance.

  "Doesn't it bother you the way he just wanders arou
nd our land?" Jenny asked when she was sure he was out of earshot.

  "Not really. He's harmless. Why, does it bother you?" Kate asked.

  "Well, how can we be certain he didn't have something to do with Daddy's death," she said. "We only have his side of the story about how they got along."

  "The picture of the heron was right where he said it would be," Mandy said. "He wasn't lying."

  "He could have come in the house after he killed Daddy and put that picture up there on the wall," Jenny said.

  "Oh come on," Kate scoffed. "As alibis go, that's pretty thin. And he's an okay guy. People around town like him."

  "Yeah, right," Jenny said darkly. "That's what they usually say about the guy who turns out to be the neighborhood serial killer. He was a real okay guy. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Chop up little old ladies, yes, but flies are totally safe around him."

  14

  Jolene surveyed the crowd sprawled out over the pecan bottom and said solemnly, "You forgot something, Mandy."

  "I knew it!" Mandy wailed. "What is it?"

  "The lighted sign pointing to the barn flashing, 'He did it here.'"

  "Oh for heaven's sake!" Mandy said with relief. "I swear you're as bad as Kate."

  Jolene was wearing another brightly colored scarf under a broad brimmed sun hat. Even though the day was cool for Texas in the summer, she was sitting in a lawn chair under the spreading branches of a massive pecan tree with strict orders from Mandy "not to wear yourself out."

  Sissy and Missy, on the other hand, were running with an entire pack of kids, splashing in the shallow water and chasing each other up and down the bank.

  Jolene's husband, Rick, appeared with two red Dixie cups of ice tea, handing one to Mandy, and giving his wife the other with a kiss when she turned her face up toward him. "You are mighty pretty today, sugar," he said happily.

  Over the past few weeks in Mandy's company, Rick witnessed the return of his wife's native vivacity. Coming home night after night to find the two of them in serious consultation over paint cards and upholstery swatches at the kitchen table, Rick would stand in the hall and wipe tears of joy from his eyes before offering some loud and completely wrong advice on purpose, just to hear them squawk. "Oh for heaven's sake, paint it all blue!"

  "Blue!" Mandy cried in outrage. "Just like a man! Rick Wilson, do you have any idea how many shades of blue there are?"

  "Blue, bluer, and bluest?" he teased.

  "Thanks for the help there, Mr. Fashion Sense. You and the girls go get us some fried chicken for supper," Jolene scolded. "We're busy. Now, Mandy, I really think aubergine is right for the dining room. I know you think it's too dark, but . . ."

  His own esteem for Mandy's healing presence was about as elevated as his girls' open adoration of her. She had come into their lives like a ray of sunshine, and in that warmth, Jolene was beginning to thrive for the first time in months. As far as he was concerned, Mandy Lockwood could do no wrong.

  "I thought you were going to bring us plates?" Mandy said, taking the tea.

  "I was going to, but Joe Mason volunteered to carry them for me," Rick said. "He's headed this way, but he had to stop and do the political thing for a minute there."

  Rick pointed to Joe who approached them with lanky strides. "Sorry, ladies!" he said, handing Jolene and Mandy heaping plates of barbecue, potato salad, and beans with slices of white bread on the side. "I had to take a minute to get lectured about nuisance squirrels in the park."

  "Since when are squirrels a nuisance?" Mandy asked.

  "Since Wanda Sue Bitterman read an article about the potential for rabid squirrels basically starting the zombie apocalypse."

  "Wanda Sue Bitterman hasn't read anything but The Enquirer in 20 years," Jolene scoffed.

  "Which is where she read it," Joe said. "She referred to it as an 'article in a well-known publication.'"

  "What did you tell her?" Many asked, giggling.

  "That the commissioners' court handles matters associated with the apocalypse, not the mayor and the city council. I can't step on county business," he winked.

  "God, no wonder Bert Weaver is looking like he wants a piece of your hide," Rick laughed.

  "He owes me one," Joe said, sitting down beside Mandy. "I got the council to annex that land of his on the edge of town where the truck stop is going in. We get the tax money, he gets the lease money. Deal would have fallen through without city water on site. I reckon that's worth listening to Wanda Sue for me. But, I didn't come to this barbecue to talk politics. Mandy, how's the old place coming along?"

  "I'm actually going to get to move in at the end of the week," she said. "Just letting the paint get good and dry."

  "I sure would like to see what you've done with it," Joe said, coloring slightly.

  Rick and Jolene exchanged a knowing grin. "Mandy," she said, "why don't you walk Joe over there when you're done eating? Give him the grand tour."

  "Oh . . . well . . . I shouldn't leave . . . I mean there might be . . ."

  Jolene arched her eyebrow and said, "There might be what? A crisis with the potato salad? I think everything's under control. You and Joe should walk on over."

  Mandy looked at her plate, looked at Joe, and looked at her plate again. "Would you like to take a walk with me to see the house?" she asked.

  "You bet I would!" Joe said, beaming. "Yes, ma'am."

  Mandy handed her plate to Jolene. "Really, I'm all done."

  Jolene eyed the largely untouched plate and said with a grin, "Barbecue always fills me up quick, too."

  Mandy, who had her back turned to the men, stuck her tongue out at Jolene and mouthed "stop" before turning to Joe. "Shall we?" she asked brightly.

  "Lead the way," he said, jumping to his feet.

  Rick and Jolene watched the two walk away. "Joe Bob's got it bad for her," Rick said.

  "It's just Joe now," Jolene said automatically.

  "He's still got it bad for her," Rick said amiably, reaching for Mandy's plate. "Give me that. No sense wasting good barbecue."

  Kate cut thick slices of brisket with a practiced hand while Jenny transferred the meat to a big aluminum pan. "If how much they're eating is an indicator," she said, "we have a successful barbecue on our hands."

  "Well, that should hold them for a little bit," Kate said, putting down her knife. "You mind if I get out of here for awhile?"

  "Too many people?" Jenny asked.

  "Way too many," Kate shuddered. "Makes me antsy."

  "Go," she said. "I've got this."

  Kate excused herself and walked away from the tables, moving down toward the river and angling upstream to get away from the party sounds. The farther she walked, the more she felt the tension of close proximity and forced good humor ease from her body. She could manage sociability by turns, and this whole thing had been her idea, but right now she didn't want to listen to anything louder than the mockingbirds fussing at one another on the branches over her head.

  When she came around a turn in the foot path, she was startled to find John Fisk sitting comfortably on a rock with a book open in his hand. At the sound of her footstep he glanced up and smiled. "Hi," he said. "Too noisy for you, too?"

  "Busted," she grinned.

  "Well," he said, closing his book, "you do throw a good party."

  "Which is why all my guests hide in the brush," she laughed.

  "Mind if I walk with you?" he asked, standing.

  "No, not at all," she said, quickly looking away to hide her pleasure.

  They walked along in silence for a few minutes until Kate said, "May I ask you something?"

  "Sure."

  "What did our fathers fall out over?"

  John hesitated and then said, a little too lightly, "Daddy said Langston was being Langston."

  "Josh Baxter told us that Daddy made George drive some papers out here and they fought over them."

  "What difference does it make?" he said, stopping and turning to face her. "Why do you want to know?"


  His tone was challenging enough to make Kate think she'd insulted him. "I'm sorry, John. I don't mean to give offense. I just wondered what the fight was about."

  Seeming to compose himself, he said, "I don't know why they quarreled, but Daddy is in no shape to be coming out here in the sticks."

  "I know, John. I'm sorry my Dad was so difficult about it."

  They stood awkwardly for a minute before he said, "But let's not let all that ruin a perfectly good day for us. Why don't we go back and get some dessert?"

  Kate walked back to the barbecue with him, but it wasn't lost on her that John Fisk had not answered her question.

  15

  The sound of throat clearing made Jenny turn her head. Josh Baxter stood behind her holding his hat in his hand, his usual grin firmly in place. She resisted the urge to smile back.

  "Oh for God's sake, Josh," she said, wiping her hands on a rag. "Put your hat on before you get sunstroke. And why the hell are you always grinning?"

  He settled the Stetson back on his head. "Well, I'm grinning at the moment because I've got a belly full of brisket and I'm looking at a pretty woman. Come on, Jenny, do I annoy you as much as you make out?"

  "You did put the brisket ahead of me in that sentence," she pointed out, but she couldn't keep the corners of her mouth firmly down.

  "There!" he said triumphantly. "You smiled at me! You did smile at me, right?"

  If he hadn't looked quite so much like a puppy wanting a pat on the head she'd have said no, but it was impossible not to like this man and God knows she was trying. There he stood, Marlboro Man handsome, perfectly ironed shirt, brand new starched jeans, creased to perfection, falling over the riding heels of his boots. If she'd ordered up "one good looking cowboy" from the factory, Josh Baxter would have stepped out of the box.

  "No, you don't annoy me that much," she relented, really smiling at him. "Some, but not that much."

  "Well, hallelujah," he said. "I was starting to think I'd never live down making old Horsefly buck you."

  "Josh Baxter, you're as bad as a cockle burr. You just don't go away," she said with mock exasperation.