“I don’t want that to happen,” Kate said. “The man we knew was a first-rate son of a bitch, but he was proud and private. Folks find out this story, they’ll pity him. I can’t do that to Daddy, not even in death.”
“Me either,” Jenny said, “but Jake is going to want to study the artifacts in that cabinet, and if we’re not careful we’ll have treasure hunters climbing the fences.”
“Jake can study that stuff all he wants to. Hell, I want him to study it all. We can even pay for his research if that’s what it takes to retain some control. But everything that went on in here? In Daddy’s mind? What he set out to do to George Fisk? What he did to Mama? This fantasy life with a dead woman? That’s family business. On that we circle the wagons.”
From the doorway Mandy’s sleepy voice said, “But what if we could help people to think better of him?” She stumbled into the room and Jenny scooted over on the hearth to make room for her. “Is there more of that?” Mandy asked, pointing at Jenny’s cup.
“This is cowboy coffee, honey,” Jenny said.
Mandy screwed up her face. “Oh, my God. Really? Hold on.”
Jenny and Kate exchanged puzzled looks and waited for Mandy to return with something in her hand that looked for all the world like a bicycle pump.
“What on earth is that thing, Baby Sister?” Kate asked.
“It’s a portable hand-pump espresso machine,” Mandy said. “And this, is a battery-powered drink heater.”
They watched in fascination as she brought the water in a mug to a fast boil, put a coffee pod in the espresso machine, poured the water in the reservoir, and proceeded to squeeze out a perfect espresso shot. “Now that,” she said, closing her eyes in blissful satisfaction, “is a proper morning drink.”
Jenny reached for Kate’s cup and said, “You all excuse me while I go get us some more caffeinated sludge.”
“Don’t forget to throw a horseshoe in this time,” Kate called after her. “A good rusty one.”
“Got it,” Jenny said, disappearing through the door.
“You two are making fun of me again,” Mandy declared.
“Only because there’s just no one like you, Baby Sister,” Kate laughed.
When Jenny rejoined them, Mandy said, “Why do we have to hide the truth about Daddy from everybody?”
“Because it’s a truth he didn’t want anyone to know,” Kate answered. “There’s no rewriting history. People already think what they’re going to think about Daddy.”
“Never mind what people think about Daddy,” Jenny said. “Somebody already thinks there’s treasure on the Rocking L or you wouldn’t have gotten shot.”
“True,” Kate said. “But the shooting wasn’t planned and I think it turned too much of a spotlight on us. Whoever sent that man out here doesn’t want that kind of publicity. We haven’t had any trouble in a month.”
“Katie, that’s too easy and you know it,” Jenny said. “Somebody went to an awful lot of trouble to watch us. They’ll be back. We might not be so lucky next time.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Kate asked.
“I say we let Jake bring whoever he needs to out here to study this stuff and, well, I don’t know, I guess look for more if he thinks that’s even a remote possibility,” she said. “We can clear all of Daddy’s personal things out of here and take them back to the house. We have to be the ones to turn up that spotlight you’re talking about or I’m afraid something’s going to come out of the dark at us that we will not like. I feel it in my gut.”
“She’s right,” a voice said from the door.
The three women looked up to see Jake Martin standing in the entrance to the cave. “Good morning,” he said, coming inside. “The smell of the coffee woke me up,” he explained, perching on the edge of the desk. “Sorry to eavesdrop.”
“It’s okay,” Kate said, “this is your business now, too. Speak your piece.”
“I’ve seen what the lure of gold and treasure can do to men,” he said. “When I was in graduate school I worked on a dive ship out in the Gulf of Mexico off Florida looking for Spanish galleons. We found one box of gold coins — one box and the crew was at each other’s throats.”
“So what do you suggest?” Jenny asked.
“I agree with you, Jenny. Clean your Dad’s stuff out of here. Protect the family secrets, then announce the discovery of the artifacts and claim their ownership by the Langston Lockwood Institute for Mesoamerican Studies.”
“The what?” Kate said with raised eyebrows.
“The foundation you are going to create to study these artifacts and control all scholarly access to your land,” he said. “I can recommend some good people to run it for you.”
“I already know who’s going to run it,” Kate said firmly. “Egghead from Texas Tech named Lowell J. Martin.”
“Oh, no,” Jake said, putting his hands up in protest. “Not me. I am not an administrator.”
“No, but you’re part of this family now,” Kate said, “and we’re not trusting anyone else to do it.”
Jake’s face colored in pleasure at her words. “Kate, that’s incredibly nice of you to say, but . . .”
“I didn’t say it,” she said, cutting him off. “Horsefly did. Everybody knows he’s the real boss on this spread.”
They all laughed, and Jake tilted his head in gracious acceptance. “Well, if Horsefly said it, that’s different.”
“If you’re running the show, you can do your research your way,” Kate went on. “Take your time. Find out the whole story about how the treasure got up in this part of Texas. I know you have to be thinking about that already.”
Jake hesitated, bit his lip, and then said, “I think it may have something to do with Montezuma’s treasure.”
“I thought it was Montezuma’s revenge?” Mandy said, looking confused.
“Also a great Aztec legacy,” Jake answered smoothly with a straight face. “But this is yet another legendary buried treasure of the American Southwest. It’s been placed everywhere from Arizona to Utah, and I really don’t believe a word of the legend as it’s told, but most legends are based on some original factual incident. I cannot deny that we’re sitting in a cave where a substantial amount of Aztec gold was found in a part of Texas where it should not be. Originally, there had to be a lot more. Your Dad must have sold several hundred pounds worth at $500 an ingot to build all this and seed a successful investment portfolio.”
“Is this Montezuma treasure connected to the San Saba Mission?” Kate asked.
Jake scratched the sandy stubble on his cheek and shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea, but trying to figure it out should keep me more than occupied for a good long time. So, yeah. I’ll take that job if this is really how you all want to handle this thing.”
Kate looked at her sisters. They both nodded. “That’s how we want to handle it,” she said. “Lockwood business stays on the Rocking L. That’s how it’s always been and we’re gonna keep it that way.”
That afternoon, Josh and Joe rode down to the ranch house and brought the utility vehicle back up to the creek bed filled with lumber from the barn, which they carried into the draw with pack horses. While they built sturdy wooden crates, the women sorted Langston Lockwood’s possessions and Jake cataloged the artifacts in the cabinet.
“I thought you wanted to photograph those in place,” Kate said, stacking books one-handed into a crate.
“I did, but it really doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “This is hardly where they were when your father found them. It’s more important to get them out of here and locked up somewhere safe.”
By Monday morning the journals, drawings, books, and personal items had all been carried down from Baxter’s Draw. The Aztec gold, swathed in layers of cotton wrapping and packed in three boxes, was temporarily sitting under several layers of hay bales in the barn.
The group broke camp and, once again all astride horses, started the ride down from the draw. The motion still ja
rred Kate, but the distractions of the past few days and the fresh air all left her feeling stronger and more purposeful. She made it back to the house without reaching for her pain medication.
Jake headed out the next morning to look into proper security measures for storing the artifacts. Joe had a busy week ahead of him at the city offices, and Josh was on his way to Austin to fulfill a magazine assignment he’d agreed to do months earlier. Mandy, back in the world of creature comforts, announced plans for a day of “girly girl” pleasures. By noon, Kate and Jenny were alone at the main house, just in time for a black Lincoln with tinted windows and New York plates to drive in the front gate.
As the sisters stepped out on the front porch together, a hulking man in shades and a jet-black suit got out of the driver’s seat and opened the passenger-side rear door.
A handsome man with dark hair slicked in place emerged. When he saw Jenny, he removed his own sunglasses and smiled. “Hello, Jennifer,” he said smoothly. “I’ve been looking forward to this reunion.”
“Who the hell is that?” Kate asked under her breath.
“Robert Marino,” Jenny said.
“And he is?”
“The last thing we need.”
44
“This is private land,” Kate said, stepping off the porch. “You have no business here.”
“Ah, but Katherine, I do,” Marino said. “I rather suspected you were going to be difficult about this, which is why my associate is here to facilitate our discussion.”
The big man unbuttoned his jacket, pulling it back to reveal a large automatic pistol in a shoulder holster.
“Damn, buddy,” Kate said. “You must scare easy if you need a Desert Eagle .44 to deal with two women.”
The man’s lip curled into a sneer, but he remained silent.
Marino let out a cold laugh. “Jennifer always said you had a propensity for . . . what was the quaint phrase you used, Jennifer?”
“Poking rattlesnakes,” Jenny said, moving down to stand with her sister. “What the hell do you want, Robert?”
“To take this conversation inside.”
“We’re fine where we are,” Kate said.
The big man put his hand on the butt of the automatic and said, “Mr. Marino said go inside.”
When the three of them were seated in the living room, the bodyguard positioned himself at the entrance, staring impassively at the front door.
“Now, isn’t this more comfortable?” Marino said.
“I’ll ask you again, Robert,” Jenny said, “what do you want?”
“You are a rude woman, Jennifer,” Marino said, playing with his diamond cufflinks. “I would have thought my last lesson in etiquette would have made you more civil.”
“What’s he talking about, Jenny?” Kate asked.
“He’s talking about the night he doubled up his fist and broke my jaw,” Jenny said.
Kate’s gray eyes turned to ice. “I don’t think much of men who hit women.”
“And I think little of women who do not know their place,” Marino said, his black eyes equally cold. “The Lockwood women appear to have difficulty with this concept.”
“You’re responsible for my father’s death, aren’t you?” Jenny said.
“Hardly,” Marino sniffed. “I was not in the barn, nor did I pull the trigger. Through that imbecile John Fisk, I made your father a fair business offer to purchase a portion of his ranch. The money would have allowed him to realize a pet project, the development of a blue heron refuge on his riverfront. I did not know that an old feud with the Fisk family would be more important to him.”
“The land was more important to him,” Kate said.
“You Texans and this ridiculous affinity for dirt and cactus,” Marino said. “It is your undoing. At any rate, I then attempted to find out what I needed by passively observing Dr. Martin’s activities, but yet again, I misjudged the idiocy of one of my operatives. I do regret your wound, Katherine.”
“I’ll just bet you do,” Kate said.
“Clearly to get what I want, I have to handle the matter in person,” Marino said. “And what I want is simply to look at the artifacts you found in Baxter’s Draw.”
“Just look at them?” Jenny snorted. “Really, Robert? Do you think we’re that stupid?”
“Actually, Jennifer, I know you’re stupid. That is not in question. I am, after all, the man who arranged for you to be at the gallery opening that night. I am the man who engineered our ‘accidental’ meeting. I am the man who took you to bed and fulfilled your pathetic longings for attention and affection while listening to your wounded whining about your mistreatment at the hands of your insensitive father. You’re a weakling. I gave you one task. Come home at Christmas and reconcile with your father. Had I gained egress to the ranch in that manner as your devoted significant other, none of this would have happened.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Jenny flinch at the man’s words, but her sister’s voice was perfectly steady when she said, “I’ll see you in hell before you get your hands on one thing that belonged to my father.”
“I was afraid you’d take that tone,” Marino said, casually drawing a Glock from his own breast pocket. “Shall I shoot your sister in the same shoulder or shall we perhaps make her a total cripple and take out a knee cap?”
Jenny paled, but it was Kate who said, “Take your best shot.”
The blast echoed deafeningly in the small room, but Marino’s body, not Kate’s took the bullet. Before he could react, Jenny was out of her chair, snatching the Glock from the floor where it fell and training it on the bodyguard as he reached for his gun. “Do it,” she said. “Please do it.”
The man held his hand up in surrender, gingerly removing the big pistol with two fingers and putting it on the floor.
“Kick it into the hall and get on your knees,” Jenny ordered. Marino sat slumped in his chair holding his hands over a gushing belly wound. Without taking her eyes off the bodyguard, Jenny said, “Who fired that shot?”
“I did,” said a small voice. Mandy stepped into sight from the hall. She was white as a ghost and her face was wet with tears, but the pistol she held in front of her was level and still.
“Jesus Christ,” Marino groaned. “I need help.”
“You need to shut the hell up,” Kate said, “before I decide to let you bleed to death and feed you to the pigs.” She stood up and went over to Mandy. “Give me the gun, Baby Sister,” she said.
Mandy shook her head. “No,” she said, “he was going to . . . I had to . . . he might . . .”
Kate put her hand over Mandy’s on the weapon. “He’s not going to do anything but sit there and bleed. Give me the gun, Mandy.”
Now shaking violently, Mandy lowered the pistol. Kate took it from her and put it on the hall table just as her sister crumpled against her sobbing.
“It’s okay, baby,” Kate said, holding Mandy close. “You did good. You did real good.” Over her shoulder she said to Jenny, “I’ll call the Sheriff.”
“Oh, I think we can wait a few minutes to make that call,” Jenny said. “Why don’t you do something with Mr. Big over there? Robert and I have some unfinished business.”
“Jenny . . .”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill him . . . yet,” she said.
Kate whispered to Mandy, “Honey, I need you to do something for me. Can you do that?”
Mandy lifted her head and made a visible effort to get a hold of herself. She nodded.
“Go in the kitchen and look under the sink,” Kate said. “There’s a bag of plastic ties under there. Get them for me, okay?”
When Mandy came back with the ties, Kate had the pistol in her hand and was holding it on the bodyguard. “I am itching to shoot somebody today, mister,” she said. “You so much as twitch and you’re a dead man.”
“Lady, dying is way above my pay grade,” he said. “I’m not going to give you any trouble.”
At Kate’s dire
ction, Mandy tied the man’s hands behind his back and secured his ankles together with the plastic ties. Satisfied that he was no longer a threat, Kate turned back to Jenny, who was still holding the Glock on the groaning Marino.
“We need to call the law, Jenny,” she tried again. “Let’s not make this any worse than it is.”
“Worse than it is, Katie?” Jenny said, sitting down across from Marino. “Worse than sleeping with a man who used your every confidence as a weapon against you? Worse than finding yourself on the floor with a broken jaw when that same man backhands you and sends you flying across the room?”
“One time,” Marino gasped. “I hit you one time, you bitch, and you deserved exactly what you got.”
“Wrong answer, Robert,” Jenny said. “One time is all it takes and no woman deserves it.” She raised the pistol.
“Jenny,” Kate commanded. “Put that gun down.”
“You cannot be serious,” Jenny said.
“What did you do the night he hit you?” Kate asked.
“I kicked him in the balls and left his sorry ass,” she said.
“Then you’re no victim,” Kate said. “And you’re not a murderer. Shooting an unarmed, wounded man is murder.”
“Listen to your sister, Jennifer,” Marino said. “I know you. I know what a decent . . .”
“Mr. Marino,” Kate said, “I am actually trying to save your worthless life so you can go to prison for a long time.”
“Good luck with that,” Marino coughed.
“If I were you, I’d shut up and not try to manipulate a woman holding a gun on you,” Kate said. “Jesus, is every man on the face of this earth an arrogant, condescending narcissist?”
“Not all men,” Josh said, coming in from the kitchen. “Just assholes like him.”
“What are you doing here?” Kate asked.
“Forgot my camera bag,” he said. “Got halfway to Austin and had to turn around.”
He walked over to Jenny and squatted down beside her chair. “Hi, sugar,” he said. “Reckon you want to put that thing down?”
The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories Page 23