Alcina told herself not to panic. She assured herself that nothing terrible had happened to her father.
Undoubtedly, his disappearance, concurrent with Emmett’s, hadn’t been coincidence. The former partners must be together. They would watch each others’ backs. At least she hoped they would.
And she and Reed would find them.
Exhausted, not having slept well the night before with Reed in the next room close enough to touch, Alcina lay down on the couch and closed her eyes for just a minute…
…a vision of Reed as she’d seen him the night before while in the throes of passion whirled through her head…
By the time she opened her eyes again, the sun was setting. She’d slept for hours.
Half-panicked, she called Reed.
“Have you heard anything?” she asked the moment Felice got him on the phone.
“Nothing. Sorry. You?”
“No. Daddy didn’t have his car towed by his emergency service, either. I checked. Now what?”
“Now we ask everyone we can. Let’s meet at the Silver Slipper around seven.”
“You want to meet in a bar?”
“Unfortunately, Reba’s Café is closed for the immediate present,” he reminded her. “Unless the gas station is more to your liking. But I’m not sure how many old cowboys we could question actually hang around the pumps.”
“The Silver Slipper it is,” she agreed.
Before leaving her father’s home, she showered and changed, once more prostrating herself to zip up the jeans. Hopefully, the effort would be worth the discomfort—she felt as if she’d been poured into them.
On her way to Silver Springs, she noticed her gas tank was nearly empty. According to the clock, she had plenty of time. The gas station would be her first stop, after all.
Getting out of the car was a relief. She could breathe normally again as she filled her tank and went inside to pay. It was on her way out, when she chose to use the bathroom around back, that she spotted the old pickup parked directly behind the building.
It was dark and hard to see, but she stopped and stared at the rusting vehicle, anyway, wondering what it was doing back here.
The gas station had a small parking area to one side out front. A truck had been parked there. Certainly, that one belonged to Hal Jenks, the cashier, for she’d seen no one else around.
The abandoned vehicle kept her wondering while she used the bathroom and fought with the jeans once more.
When she stepped back outside, Alcina couldn’t help herself. Circling the pickup, she looked for something that would indicate the owner. The license plates weren’t personalized and therefore of no help.
Only one option left to her…
People rarely locked their vehicles in these parts, and whoever had driven the pickup was no exception. Pulse threading unevenly at her own daring, she opened the passenger door and slid into the dusty interior, then went straight for the glove compartment.
Digging around, she found a flashlight, and then the vehicle registration. Flushing with excitement, she confirmed the pickup belonged to the Curly-Q, one of many, she knew.
Undoubtedly, this particular vehicle was the very one that Emmett Quarrels had driven off the spread the day before!
But why had he left it here at the edge of town? And where the heck had he gone? And was her father with him?
She flashed the light along the ground next to the pickup. Sure enough, tire tracks. The ground had been wet from the snow the day before, so it was a safe bet the men had met here.
Hoping for some answers from the cashier, she ran back inside the gas station.
“Hey, Hal, the pickup that’s parked behind the building, did Emmett Quarrels leave it here?”
“What pickup?”
The cashier’s expression was blank as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. Did that mean the vehicle had been left there since the man had come on shift?
“Have you been around back today?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“What about yesterday?”
“No reason to.”
“You don’t use the bathroom back there?”
He pointed to a nearby door. “We have an Employees Only.”
So it probably wouldn’t do any good to question anyone else who’d worked the past two days, either.
Frustrated, anxious to share the news with Reed, Alcina headed for the Silver Slipper, arriving a few minutes before seven. She didn’t see Reed’s pickup parked along the street. Preferring someplace more comfortable than her car, she went inside to wait for him.
Hugh Ruskin spotted her immediately and sauntered away from a customer toward her. He leaned his elbows on the bar and grinned, the expression making her stomach tighten. His pale eyes pinned her.
“Well, I’ll be, if it isn’t the new Mrs. Quarrels,” he said in a too-personal tone almost too low to hear over the cacophony of voices and blaring music. “Lost your husband already?”
“I’m meeting him here.”
Ruskin was putting her on the immediate defensive, Alcina realized. Uncomfortable, she looked around for an empty table, but with Reba’s Café closed, the Silver Slipper was the only game in town.
The place was packed, mostly with men.
There was no helping it—Alcina slid onto the bar stool nearest the door.
“What can I get you?”
“Make it a margarita. Lots of salt and lime, easy on the tequila.”
Pulling off her jacket, she swiveled her stool to get a better look at the room’s occupants and was a little surprised to see Cesar Cardona and Vernon Martell at the same table, heads together, deep in what looked to be a heated discussion.
While Cardona was dressed in another gaucho-type suit plainer than the one he’d worn to the wedding, Martell wore his work clothes—jeans, flannel shirt and lined vest.
She wondered what the two dissimilar men had in common other than their romantic trysts with Reba Gantry before she died. Then Alcina remembered they’d had business dealings before. Cardona had bought out Luis Gonzalez to develop Land of Enchantment Acres, but he’d first resold half of the acreage to Martell.
She couldn’t help wondering if they had another deal in the works—one that concerned the Curly-Q Ranch.
“Here you go.”
She turned back to the bar as Ruskin slid her margarita glass toward her, his hand heavy with gold rings.
“See if that’s to your liking.”
Alcina took a sip. “Perfect.”
Her gaze wandered back to his rings and she realized she was automatically looking for an empty setting in the shape of a triangle.
“See anything you like?”
Startled, she shot her gaze to his. “What?”
“The rings.” He held out both hands. He was wearing seven in total. “I collect them. This one’s my favorite.”
Oddly enough, he pointed to the least expensive of the bunch on the middle finger of his left hand. The only silver ring, it looked like a river of twisted metal.
“It is interesting.”
“The silver came from ore right out of the old Silver Springs mine, or so I was told. You never know who to trust.”
Caught by his strange intonation and direct expression, she just stared.
“Are you sure that margarita’s all right?” he asked. “I can make a new one if you don’t like it.”
“No, it’s great.” She took a long, fortifying swallow, then asked, “Is that what brought you to Silver Springs?”
“What? A ring? Hardly. Silver Springs seemed like a quiet town and I was looking for quiet.”
She’d meant the mine itself, but his answer made her wonder if he equated quiet with a place to hide out. From Josie’s account, Hugh Ruskin was a tough customer who’d gotten the best of Bart.
Thinking she should get back to the business that brought her here, she casually asked, “Say, Emmett Quarrels hasn’t stopped by lately, has he?”
; “Old Emmett? Nah. He’s never been in here since I took over the place. I understand he’s got a bad heart. Can’t drink.” As if he’d been paged, Ruskin glanced down to the other end of the bar. “Hang on, gotta take care of another customer.”
Relieved that she was no longer the center of his close scrutiny, Alcina decided to invite herself to sit with Cesar Cardona and Vernon Martell. Maybe she could get some hint of what they were plotting.
As she moved closer, however, they dropped any talk of business and, as if one, looked up at her questioningly.
“I was wondering if you gentlemen would mind my joining you until Reed gets here?” Alcina asked the men, giving them her sweetest smile.
“Not at all, Alcina.” Ever the gentleman, Cardona rose and pulled out a chair for her. “Pardon me, that’s Señora Quarrels, now, yes?”
“Alcina will do.”
She sat and smiled at Martell, who removed his hat and set it on the table, but said nothing to her directly. She set her jacket on the remaining unoccupied chair.
“Bartender!” Cardona waved a hand in Ruskin’s direction. “We need a fresh round at this table.”
Ruskin moved around the bar, asking, “What can I get you?” but he was staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl.
“I don’t need another drink,” Alcina told him.
“But I insist,” Cardona said. “Then we can make a toast to the bride.”
“All right, you talked me into it.” Figuring that complying would get Cardona in more of an expansive mood than refusing, she said, “Another margarita, then.”
She didn’t have to finish the first. Or the second for that matter. She was already feeling pleasantly mellow. But a sip to appease the man wouldn’t hurt.
“And you gentlemen?”
“Margaritas all around,” Cardona said. “And put it on my bill.”
Alcina waited until Ruskin had gone back to the bar to pour their drinks before asking, “So what brings you here tonight?”
“Now that Reba’s Café has closed its doors, the Silver Slipper is the pulse of the community,” Cardona said. “And I plan to be part of this community for a very long time.”
Alcina stared at him. Not a word about Reba herself. She could hardly believe that he was so callous.
Clearing her throat, she turned to Martell. “What about you?”
“My wife. Staring at the television night after night with her gets to me,” the rancher said defiantly. “The wife’s an invalid, you know. She can’t do much else other than eat and sleep.” Before Alcina could offer some expression of sympathy, he turned the tables on her. “And what brings you here?”
“My husband. He and I are on a fact-finding mission. Make that a father-finding mission,” she said, keeping her tone light. “When was the last time either of you gentlemen saw Emmett Quarrels?”
“What? He’s missing?” Martell asked, sounding truly surprised.
“He, uh, had a disagreement with his sons yesterday and did a little disappearing act, no doubt to worry them.”
“Sounds like Quarrels,” Martell said.
“So, have either of you seen him?”
“Not since the wedding last week,” Cardona offered.
And when she looked to Martell, he said, “Reba’s funeral.”
The ensuing silence was deafening.
Like Hugh Ruskin, they were both fairly new to the community. Neither was likely to know her father, so she didn’t mention him.
Instead, she asked, “What time do you have?” She was becoming impatient to see Reed.
Cardona checked his watch, a simple piece with plain leather band. She wondered that he didn’t wear the jeweled one that he’d so proudly shown off at the wedding.
“Ten past seven,” he announced.
“Hmm. Reed is late.”
And she desperately needed an excuse to get away from the table for a minute. The tension was getting to her.
“Listen, I’ll be right back,” she said, popping out of her chair. “I need to call Reed to see what’s holding him up.”
The pay phone was out of sight of the bar, down a hallway that also led to the bathrooms and a rear exit. Alcina made her way to the phone carefully—the effect of the margarita had already sneaked up on her.
Having shoved a slender wallet into one of her pockets, she was pleased to find that it slipped out without difficulty. The jeans were loosening. She dug out the coins and dropped them into the slot, then dialed.
Felice answered. “Curly-Q.”
“This is Alcina. Is Reed still there?”
“He was running late, Miss Alcina. He returned to the trailer to shower and change. But he should be in town soon.”
“Thanks, Felice.”
Hanging up, she returned the wallet back into her pocket. Her fingers fumbled slightly, but she managed it.
When she got back to the table, the drinks had already been delivered. And Cardona was sitting alone.
“Where’s your friend?” she asked, knowing Martell wasn’t in the bathroom because he hadn’t passed her.
“He downed half his drink and said he had to leave.” Cardona shrugged and lifted his glass. “To the beautiful bride,” he toasted.
Prompting her to pick up the fresh margarita. The first glass was nowhere to be seen. The salty-tart taste was even more appealing than before. Thirsty, she downed a long swallow.
“What brought you to Silver Springs?” she asked Cardona.
“My business, of course.”
“I mean in the first place. Why did you choose to build here? Did you ever live in this area?”
“A long time ago, yes,” he admitted. “But only for a few years when I was a small child. My reasons to build here were strictly business, though. The price of the land was right. And Silver Springs is close enough to Taos and Angelfire to be attractive to people who want to pursue both culture and winter sports.”
“You really thought it through.”
“That’s the way I approach everything, Alcina. With my head. And with great patience. That’s the key to success. I’ve waited a long, long time to get what I deserve out of life.”
Alcina lost focus on what he was saying and suddenly realized that she must have consumed too much alcohol. Not that she’d even finished the drink in front of her. But her eyes were getting heavy and her brain a little fuzzy.
“To getting things we deserve,” Cardona said, lifting his drink to toast with her.
Alcina put her hand around her glass, then changed her mind. “Whoa. I think I’d better stop right there.”
“And force me to drink alone?”
“If I don’t switch to tonic water, Reed’ll have to carry me out of here.”
“Your pleasure is mine,” Cardona said. “Bartender, a tonic water for the lady.”
“Coming right up.”
Alcina’s limbs were growing heavier by the second, and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes.
“Um, I think I’ll go splash some water on my face.”
She had to place her hands on the table to push herself up. Unsteady, she stood there for a moment, willing the room to stop spinning…and her stomach to stop churning. She was feeling sick as well as drunk.
“I—I’ll be back,” she muttered.
Somehow, Alcina made it to the hallway. Then she was able to feel her way along the walls. The distance seemed enormous to her. She thought she’d never make it.
Each step took her down…down…down farther into a truly wretched state.
What had happened to make her feel so terrible? Alcina wondered as she stumbled into the bathroom.
She made it to the sink and managed to turn on the cold-water faucet. Margaritas had never done this to her before. One might make her silly. Two—her limit—might get her a little drunk, but certainly not sick.
And, boy was she sick! And she hadn’t even finished either of her drinks.
All the cold water in the world on her wrists and face did
n’t help to bring her around.
The effects kept increasing but she couldn’t keep fighting them.
Alcina felt herself fading…barely able to remain on her feet, grasping the sink with both hands for all she was worth. Too weak.
No more margaritas for her!
Her last thought as her fingers gave and she ungraciously sank to the bathroom floor…
…rough hands under her arms brought her halfway back to consciousness, if unable to force her eyes open…
She was being dragged.
Jostled.
Thrown.
Pain flared in waves through her already sore hip and shoulder.
She struggled upward, when the rough hands returned, this time touching her body all over.
She fought the invasion…tried to open her eyes…barely caught a glimpse of a large man’s silhouette looming over her.
Sharp pain in her jaw made her see stars…
Then nothing at all.
REED PARKED his truck down the block from the Silver Slipper and strode quickly toward the place. Nearly half an hour late—Alcina would be fit to be tied.
If she’d even waited for him. She was an expert at being prickly.
Spotting her car parked nearby reassured him. But when he walked into the bar, he didn’t see his wife.
Catching Ruskin’s attention, he asked, “Has Alcina been in?”
“For the past hour or so.” Ruskin turned his gaze to the tables. “Hmm. Last I saw her, she was sitting with Cardona, over there.”
“Thanks,” Reed muttered. He should have known she’d start asking after his father without him.
Cesar Cardona was just rising, looking as if he was ready to leave. Alcina’s camel-hair jacket was draped over one of the other chairs.
“Ah, Reed, there you are,” Cardona said with a grin. “Your wife was becoming impatient over you.”
“She left without me? And without her jacket?”
“No, no. She wasn’t feeling well. A little too much tequila. She went to the ladies’ room a while ago.”
Reed was already hotfooting it down the hall.
Arriving at the bathroom, he knocked. “Alcina? You okay?”
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