by Carolyn Hart
She slipped out into the cool darkness of the patio and walked deep into the shadows of the magnolia. The gentle night breeze rustled the glossy heavy leaves. She pressed her hands against her flaming cheeks and plunged even farther away from the brightly shining windows toward the end of the hacienda. It was quiet here, away from the rising tide of voices and music, away from Jed and Julie. Her slippers made no sound against the flagstones.
When she heard Uncle Dan’s angry voice, raised almost to a shout, she knew he was too upset to care whether he was overheard. She had heard that kind of tone in his voice only once before, years ago. She didn’t remember now why she had been present at the confrontation, she remembered only the sound of Dan McIntire’s voice. A cowboy who had worked for the ranch for years had been discovered to be rustling cattle, segregating them in a hidden canyon, altering their brands, and spiriting them out a few at a time to sell.
Dan McIntire had been outraged. His voice had shaken with fury. “A man is either honest or he isn’t.”
Now, so many years later, she heard the same anguish and outrage in his voice in a scrap of a sentence.
“. . . on my land?”
There was no mistaking who spoke. She would have bet her life on it.
Someone else spoke then, but his voice was low and indistinguishable. She couldn’t hear the words or recognize the speaker.
Uncle Dan spoke again, still loudly, still angrily. “Goddammit, I won’t have it! I’ll stop it.” His voice lowered and she just caught a few more words, “. . . glad you told me. I’ll . . .” A door closed. The voices were gone.
Serena stood uncertainly for a moment, just outside the office window.
Something was terribly wrong.
She gathered up her skirt and began to run lightly back toward the French windows. She must find Uncle Dan, talk to him. She came back into the brightly lit room. Voices rose and fell cheerfully, music throbbed in the background. Couples danced. The party was exactly as it had been a few moments ago—and that shocked Serena because she knew something was terribly wrong.
She saw Uncle Dan then. He was all the way across the room, standing in the archway to the hall, listening courteously to Rosa Montoya of Crazy Horse Ranch. But Serena thought she saw, even at this distance, a look of strain on his face.
She started across the room, but one person stopped her, then another. From each she disengaged as quickly as possible, then, near the organ, she found her way blocked by Julie and Jed.
Serena tried to slip past. “Excuse me,” she murmured.
Julie reached out a slender hand, the nails long and perfect and vividly red. “Why, Serena, where have you been? In the kitchen?”
Her lazy tone suggested that the kitchen, of course, was Serena’s proper place.
Serena managed a smile. “Actually, Julie, I’ve been out on the patio. It’s a lovely night.”
“All alone?”
“That would be telling,” Serena replied coolly. Then she looked directly at Jed. “Have you had a good time tonight?”
He looked from one of them to the other, then said, almost angrily, “I always have a good time.”
“Damn lucky. That’s what you are. Damn lucky.” The words were thick and slurred. “Don’t have a good time. Not anymore.”
The three of them turned in unison, like marionettes, to look up at Will. A very drunk Will. He swayed back and forth, from toe to heel, like a huge tree ready to topple.
Serena felt a pang of distress. Before dinner, Will had smiled at her, his light blue eyes eager, and asked her to promise him a dance. “Like old times,” he had said happily. “Of course, Will,” she had answered, looking forward to the evening, “it will be like old times.”
And she had not looked for him, not the whole evening long. There had been the kitchen to check and old friends to greet and Jed to wait for. Now the evening was almost over and she had never danced with Will.
Will’s face was puddly and slack. “No damn good,” he muttered thickly, “no damn good any more.”
Serena looked past Will toward the archway. Uncle Dan had little patience with those who drank too much. A drunk was never invited back to Castle Rock. If he saw Will like this . . . Serena reached out, took Will’s arm, “Come on,” she said gently, “let’s take a walk, Will.”
It took Will a long moment to understand, then he tried to smile. “With me, Serry, will you walk with me?”
“Of course I will. Come on now, let’s go this way.”
They started off toward the French windows and he leaned against her, big and heavy. Then he stopped. “Serry,” he said slowly, painfully, “you won’t want to walk with me. Not any more.”
She tugged at his arm. Uncle Dan was still standing in the archway, moving now toward the foyer as some of the guests began to leave.
“Of course I’ll walk with you, Will. Let’s go out this way.” She wanted to get him out to the patio and around the side of the house and up the outside stairs to his room. She tugged again.
Then Peter and Jed came up on either side.
“Come on, old man,” Peter said briskly, “we’ll give you a hand.”
Will stiffened and tried to pull his arms free, but the two men were moving him ahead now.
“We’ll take care of him,” Jed said quietly. “You and Julie go ahead and help say goodbye to the guests.”
Serena hesitated, but Jed and Peter had Will to the window now. Will looked back, and his face was so sorrowful that Serena took a step after them.
“Oh come on, Serena,” Julie said irritably. “They’ll see to him.”
“Julie, what can be the matter? What’s wrong with Will?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “He’s drunk. The fool.” Her face was white and angry. Her hand caught Serena’s elbow and the two of them turned toward the archway.
“Don’t tell Uncle Dan,” Julie said in a low tight voice.
“Of course not,” Serena replied angrily. Julie didn’t have to tell her that.
Then they were caught up in the knot of guests and dudes saying goodnight. When the front door finally shut behind the last of them, the smile faded from Uncle Dan’s face and he looked stern and somber.
Serena wanted to ask him what was wrong, but Julie was standing beside him, and she had slipped a hand through his arm and turned and walked with him toward the stairs. Serena trailed along behind.
“Another successful dance at Castle Rock,” Julie said lightly.
Uncle Dan looked down as if just realizing she walked with him. He managed to smile. “Did you have a good time, honey?”
“A wonderful time, Uncle Dan.”
“Good, good,” he said absently.
Near the top of the steps, Julie said, “Tell me more about your new man, Uncle Dan. The one named Jed.”
Serena’s step faltered, then, stolidly, she continued to climb. Uncle Dan came out of his abstraction, and his voice warmed as he spoke. He obviously liked Jed so much.
Serena tried not to listen. At the top of the steps, she paused, then said goodnight abruptly and left Julie deep in conversation with Uncle Dan.
She looked back once, but they were still talking. Serena had hoped to ask Uncle Dan what had upset him, for she knew he was still distressed. But she certainly didn’t want to ask in front of Julie, and Uncle Dan might not want anyone else to know what he had learned in the den.
Actually, she thought, as she opened her door, he might not want her to know. Castle Rock, after all, was his ranch. She had no claim. No right to interfere. She didn’t want to interfere; she only wanted to help.
She gave one last glance down the hall, shut her door. She would talk to Uncle Dan tomorrow. There would be plenty of time to talk to him tomorrow.
Serena moved restlessly in the wide double bed. Moonlight spread across her floor. The moon was high. The time must be late. The yellow glow through the windows was almost as bright as day. She closed her eyes firmly, but sleep wouldn’t come. Images moved in
her mind, Julie and Jed together, Will swaying on his feet, Uncle Dan’s tired face in that last glimpse before she turned up the hall.
Sighing, Serena opened her eyes. The moonlight-dappled room was lovely, wide and deep with sharply bright Indian art on the creamy adobe walls. The moonlight touched her magnificent collection of Kachina dolls. Feathered headdresses glinted gold or green or red. Each Kachina doll, and she owned sixty-four, faithfully represented a Hopi deity. As a child, she had looked forward eagerly to the times when the Pueblos permitted visitors to come and watch the dances. Each dancer’s mask represented a god. Serena would eagerly match in her mind the huge swaying masks with her Kachina dolls. She knew them by heart, the Warrior God, the Corn God, the Snake God, the Rain God, and so many more. Joe Walkingstick had patiently taught her the story of each doll, making them figures of glory and power.
Serena smiled in the darkness. Dear Joe. She wished suddenly that she had talked to Joe about Jed. Joe wouldn’t say much. That was not the Indian way. But whatever he said would be trenchant. She remembered his quiet observation last summer about Peter. “Not a man to hunt with.” At the time, she had been shocked. That was before Julie took him away. Later Serena would remember and know that Joe had seen more than she. Joe was right. You couldn’t trust Peter.
Serena bunched the pillow behind her head and wondered if Joe had ever said anything about Peter to Julie. If he had, obviously she had ignored his words.
Julie.
It couldn’t be like last summer. Julie was married now.
Her throat felt dry. Being a married woman might not stop her. Julie was capable of going after Jed just because he was a handsome man and because Serena liked him. Julie would know that, of course. It probably hadn’t taken her a day to sense that Serena cared.
Was that her motive? Was it spite?
But why? Why should Julie want to hurt her? Perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps her behavior was more instinctive than that, the automatic response of a beautiful woman to an attractive man without any thought at all of Serena. Or Peter.
Serena turned on her side and stared toward the windows. Determinedly, she shut her eyes and pictured Missionary Lake, high in the mountains, the deep soft dark water, moonlight rippling over it. Finally, she slept.
When she opened her eyes again, the ghostly light of dawn touched her room with silver and gray. So, she thought muzzily, she had finally slept. It must be very early, not even five yet.
Far away she heard a door slam.
Serena sat up and strained to see the luminous dials of the clock on her bedside table. Who was up this early?
Gravel crunched beneath her window.
Serena threw back her covers and hurried to look out.
Uncle Dan walked swiftly down the path that led to the stables. He was carrying a rifle.
Serena frowned. Where could he be going so early and with a rifle? Then she shrugged. They were going to fly into Albuquerque about ten to pick up some medicine for one of the mares who had developed an eye infection. She would ask him then.
Suddenly dull with sleep, she turned back to bed and slept heavily until the alarm rang. She plunged into her morning chores and didn’t have time to think about Uncle Dan or worry about Jed and Julie.
She was in the tack room just before nine o’clock when she heard the shouts. She knew immediately something was wrong. By the time she reached the corral, a crowd was gathering.
Then she saw Senator.
A boot hung from his left stirrup.
Joe walked slowly toward the big black horse, a hand outstretched. The horse sidestepped and his eyes rolled uneasily.
Jed was waving back the hands, making them give Joe plenty of room. “Senator’s scared,” he said quietly. “He’s dangerous. Everybody be quiet.”
“Uncle Dan?” Serena cried out.
Jed turned. His face told the story. “Senator came back riderless.”
“Oh my God.”
The search began immediately. Three parties of riders set out in different directions.
“The plane,” Serena said quickly. “Let’s take it up.”
She and Jed jumped into the jeep and drove furiously to the airstrip.
“I saw him leave this morning,” Serena said bleakly as they took off.
Jed waited until the plane gained altitude. “Did you see which direction he went?”
“No. I saw him walking down to the corral.” She peered out of her window at the dusty rugged country. “Oh, Jed, what do you suppose happened?”
He turned the plane to the west. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? It’s that damned horse. He rode him one time too many.”
Serena didn’t answer. Sure, Senator was dangerous. Everybody knew the horse was nervy, but no one was more aware of Senator’s weaknesses than Uncle Dan. Uncle Dan knew how to handle Senator.
They searched in silence, each of them staring grimly down at the endless dun-colored country and, coming closer now, huge reddish Castle Rock.
“Jed, look down there. Look!”
Jed slipped the plane down along the side of the immense rock, into the shadow that it threw, and there, like a crumpled sack, they saw him among the boulders. As Jed turned the plane, Serena pressed her hands against her face.
“Serena, I think I can set her down here. There’s plenty of room and it’s pretty level. Will you risk it?”
Her hands dropped. “Of course,” she said quietly.
The Aerocommander hit hard, rose, hit again, settled into a steady run. Jed eased her in a turn and they came alongside Castle Rock. The plane jolted to a stop. They climbed from the cockpit, jumped to the ground, ran breathless up the sandy ground and into the rock debris at the base of Castle Rock.
Uncle Dan’s body was wedged between two big boulders.
Serena knelt by him, touched a cold hand, and tried not to see the bloody abrasions on his head and face.
Jed stared silently for a moment. Then he began to walk along Castle Rock, looking down. After a bit, “Serena, come look at this,” he called out as he stopped.
When she joined him, she saw the glint of metal and then she remembered.
“It’s Uncle Dan’s rifle. He was carrying it this morning.”
Jed frowned. “Are you sure? I’ve never seen him ride out with a rifle.”
“He did this morning.”
“I wonder why?” Jed asked slowly. He lifted his head to look up at the looming mesa. “Why would he bring a rifle here?”
“I don’t know,” Serena said uncertainly. “Why would he come here alone?”
They both looked at the desolate countryside, then Serena said quietly. “There’s Uncle Dan’s hat.”
Jed went after the hat. He brought it back to her, the crown crushed, the brim smeared with blood.
“It looks pretty obvious,” Jed said. “Mr. McIntire must have been dismounting—and Senator reared.”
Serena could see it in her mind, the huge black horse, always skittish, Uncle Dan swinging his leg over Senator’s back. At that instant, something must have startled Senator, making him rear. Uncle Dan must have lost his balance. As he slipped, his boot heel hooked in the stirrup. Senator, spooked and dangerous and wild, must have started to run, and the thing hanging at his side would have driven him crazy. Uncle Dan lost the rifle and then his hat and, soon, horribly soon, he would have been battered senseless.
Jed found a tarp in the plane and worked the body free. The two of them wrapped Uncle Dan in the tarp and struggled back to the plane, and somehow Jed got their tragic load up and into the back.
The next two days were full of periods of frantic activity and long, slow, agonizing hours of quiet. Father Dominguez came from Santa Fe to say the funeral mass. Ranchers came from hundreds of miles around. Serena directed Millie in preparing the huge meal to be served on trestle tables on the patio. She was so busy she had little time to realize her sorrow. But, as Father Dominguez said the final prayer and made the sign of the cross over the plain pine c
offin, tears slipped down her cheeks.
The mourners stood in a semicircle, the family in front, around the edge of the grave Joe and the men had dug the day before in the shade of a huge cottonwood near Blue Stone River, a half mile from the hacienda. Danny’s face quivered and Serena slipped an arm around his thin shoulders and held him tightly. He was so little to lose his grandfather, to be left now with only Julie and Will as his family. Serena glanced at Julie. She wore a most becoming black dress. A black lace mantilla shadowed her face.
But Julie hadn’t cried. Then Serena was shocked at her thought. That wasn’t fair. Julie and Will loved Uncle Dan, too. After all, he had raised them just as he had Serena. The three of them and Danny were equally bereft.
With a quiver of shock, Serena looked at Will. She had been so busy, trying to make sure the dinner preparations were complete and helping greet Uncle Dan’s friends from all over the state, that she hadn’t even thought of Will.
Now she must do something about Will.
Father Dominguez was stopping to speak to each member of the family, clasping their hands for a moment. After he had spoken to her, Serena tried to move unobtrusively. She took Will’s arm and pulled him along the path with her.
“Will,” she whispered angrily, “how could you?”
He paused. His big body wavered ever so slightly.
Quickly, Serena gave another firm tug and they started walking again.
“Shouldn’t have happened,” Will said slowly, thickly, each word an effort.
He was drunk as a lord, Serena thought angrily. She took a deep breath. It wouldn’t help matters to be angry with Will. But what in the world was wrong with him? He had been drunk at the party the night before Uncle Dan died. Now he was drunk at the funeral.
Julie and Peter were leading most of the funeral party around the side of the house toward the patio. Even Jed was helping steer guests there. Jed had certainly managed to become Julie’s second-in-command quickly.