And yet, what choice did she have but to see it through? Her heart had already traveled where her brain was afraid to tread.
Lily screwed a cap on a jar. “This batch will have to wait until I take care of Charlie and deliver lunch to the crew.”
“How about the lunch? Can I make some sandwiches or something?” Kinsey offered.
“I already made chili and corn bread, and when I get back from running Charlie up to catch the bus, I’ll grill chicken.”
“That’s a feast! What crew are you talking about?” Kinsey asked as she perched on a nearby stool.
“Sometimes they burn pastures after the grass is harvested for feed. It purifies the soil. It also, I might add, works up an appetite.”
“I didn’t see any smoke.”
“You wouldn’t. The field is over the mountain, miles from here. I don’t know, maybe I bit off more than I could chew today. I shouldn’t have tried to can this morning.” She scurried to the staircase and hollered, “Charlie? Hurry up.”
Kinsey heard the little boy protest, but Lily repeated her command before resuming her task.
“Have you been working here long?” Kinsey asked.
“About six months.”
“Then you didn’t know Zane’s, I mean Gerard’s, wife, Ann?”
“No. She was already gone by the time I came. I hope Harry’s new wife can make it a home again, but from what Chance says, she’s got issues of her own.”
“Like what, do you know?”
“I’ve just overheard people talking. I guess she lost her family in a series of tragic events. That was a long time ago, but she hasn’t really mended. I gather she feels responsible.”
“That must be terrible.”
Lily looked down at her hands. “Yeah. Guilt is an awful thing to live with. You’ll like Gerard’s father, though.”
“What’s he like?”
“Strong willed and opinionated, not my favorite traits in a male, but he took me in when I had nowhere else to turn. He’s never even asked me to explain...things. Anyway, he’s a chauvinist, sure. It’s easier to dismiss in a man of seventy than it is in someone Chance’s age.”
“Explain something to me,” Kinsey said. “Are you and Chance enemies or are you guys closer than you’re letting on?”
Lily shrugged. “He wanted to date...I don’t know.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I’ve had enough of men like him. You know, all bluster and ego. He reminds me of...well, never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
Charlie tumbled into the room looking resigned to his fate. He glanced at Kinsey, then around the room. “Where is Uncle Gerard?”
“He’s out working,” Kinsey said. She turned to Lily. “I can drive him up to catch the bus for you.”
“I appreciate the offer, but he’ll require his daily pep talk,” she replied. “If you could take the beans out of the pressure cooker when the timer goes off, that would really help. Oh, and the charcoal for the chicken is all laid out in the grill near the garden. Would you light it for me in about fifteen minutes?”
“Of course.”
“Charlie, get your lunch box out of the fridge,” Lily said as she grabbed her keys. She looked back at Kinsey and added, “Just use those tongs to lift the bottles out of the cooker and set them on that towel like the others, but make sure you wait until the pressure is at zero. I’ll loosen the rings later. Thanks a bunch.”
And with that, mother and child disappeared out the door.
Kinsey sat down at the table to wait for the timer to announce the pressure cooker was ready to open. The big room was humid from steam, but not entirely unpleasant. The minutes ticked by peacefully as the house seemed to settle around her. She thought back to the scrambled eggs Zane had made her for breakfast, and the way he’d flirted with her. Sharing a cup of coffee at his sunlit table in his very own house had seemed enchanting to Kinsey, like a piece of the giant puzzle called life had slipped quietly into place. There went the panic alarm again, and she smiled at her contrary thoughts.
She’d slipped her small purse across her shoulder that morning, and now she opened it without removing it from her body, taking out the book Bill Dodge had given her to help pass the time. It really was a beauty—he’d outdone himself on the binding. She opened it and found that he’d written something on the inside page. “For Kinsey,” she read. “Remember, life is like a book—the important stuff happens between the covers.”
She chuckled at the double entendre. Would she ever see him again? Suddenly she felt as if she was half a world away, living among strangers...
She turned a few pages until the timer finally went off. After fitting the book back in her bag, she opened the lid and carefully lifted the dripping bottles one by one. When they were all lined up without their shoulders touching, she began the search for matches and found them in a drawer by the stove.
It was warm outside but not as humid as inside the house. The three dogs ambled over as she walked to the garden, where she found a large chimney-style fire starter filled with newspaper and coals sitting on a bigger bed of charcoal. She’d seen these used before and knew the object was to light the newspapers and wait until the coals on top caught fire, then spread those over all the others.
This was going to take a few minutes, so after she lit the newspaper, she decided to investigate the garden. She let herself in the tall fence that must have been constructed to keep deer from munching their way through the produce. Though she didn’t close the gate, the dogs held back. One wandered off toward the barn and the other two followed him.
It was a pleasure to walk the well-tended path. Rows of cornstalks and pole beans climbing up their strings heightened the feeling of isolation. Bright red tomatoes hung from trellised plants, while rows of peppers, eggplants and vines covered with cucumbers covered the raised beds. Yellow marigolds added color and beauty. She’d never been alone in such a lush, productive garden and found it tantalizing.
What would make it perfect, she decided, was a shade tree and a bench. How wonderful would it be to sit out here and read a book or try painting a still life...
Surely no one would deny her a tomato or two? She looked around until she found a branch covered with grape-sized fruit, and stripped three juicy specimens to pop in her mouth. The urge to find a basket and harvest everything in sight was overpowering.
Well, since she couldn’t pick the fruits and vegetables, she could do the next best thing. She could draw them and luckily she’d brought along her art tote when they left Zane’s house that morning. She turned toward the gate with the intention of grabbing a sketch pad and charcoal pencils but stopped short. A man stood a couple of feet away. A smile died on her lips as he raised his hand and revealed an ugly black gun.
“Who are you?” she gasped. “What do you want?”
His tongue darted over what appeared to be thin lips, although it was impossible to know for sure because of the reddish beard that covered half his face. Jodie! He shot a quick look over his shoulder as though he’d heard something. When he turned back to her, he licked his lips again. “You’re coming with me,” he said.
She wanted to run or scream but could do neither. It was as though her feet had grown roots in the fertile earth, holding her in place. He jabbed the barrel against her stomach. “Just do as I say,” he snapped. His expression had gone from nervous to intense. He took a deep breath. “Listen. If you’re good and quiet and don’t give me any trouble, he won’t have to watch you die. If you piss me off, he’ll never forget what he sees.”
He? Zane?
“What have you done to him?” she cried.
He grabbed her arm and pushed her in front of him, twisting her elbow behind her back. The gun poked against her spine. “Walk ahead of me. Don’t try anything.” His rough nails grated against her skin. She took a few steps and he stayed glued to her back.
“Hurry up,” he demanded.
“Tell me what you’ve done to him!” she
pleaded as they exited the garden. She frantically cast her gaze around the ranch, praying someone would see them and intercede. There just wasn’t anyone. The dogs had reappeared and stood nearby, watching with big brown eyes. The only thing that moved was the flame shooting out of the coal chimney.
“Walk over to that blue truck.”
A rusted truck sat a few feet away, a squat, windowless canopy secured to the bed. “Open the door,” he demanded as he waved the gun at the passenger side. Maybe she’d have a chance to escape when he went around to get behind the wheel.
Or maybe he’d shoot her right here and now. But why? To get to Zane? It had to be. “What do you want?” she repeated as she opened the door. “Just tell me.”
He pulled her back against his chest, raised the gun to her temple and hissed hot air against the back of her neck. His body felt as hard as a concrete pillar, the arm wrapped around her waist as unyielding as a steel cable. “Did you honestly think Block would let you walk away?” he said. “Did you think he wouldn’t find you, that he wouldn’t hunt you down? Did you think he’d let you steal the only thing in the world he cares about?”
“Who is Block?” she cried. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” he said. Her pulse seemed to jump against the cold metal as he guided the gun down her neck, slowly and methodically, down between her breasts, to her belly. She struggled to breathe, to think. Every nightmare she’d ever had shot through her head. “You are about to have a very fatal accident,” he whispered. “And after you’re dead, Block will get what he wants, what is his.”
“I don’t know anyone named Block. Please.”
“You’re playing with me,” he growled against her skin. “That means I play with you, too.” He abruptly thrust his tongue into her ear, his free hand twisting the strap on her purse up around her neck. She grabbed at his hands to keep from being strangled and threw her head back into his, hoping to knock him out cold. His teeth came down hard on her earlobe and she screamed.
“Bitch!” he barked as he pushed her against the truck.
Warm blood dripped down her neck. She tried dodging away, but he caught the strap again and yanked it hard. Then he brought the gun down on her head. She raised her arm to protect herself. “You’re making a mistake,” she screamed. “Stop!”
The next blow connected with her temple. She tried to grab something to steady herself, but she couldn’t make her fingers work. Her body hit the ground with a thump. A gray rock filled her entire field of vision until it, too, faded away.
Chapter Eleven
Zane found his brothers where Lily had told her they’d be. Both were working on the pens located in the middle of a vast field surrounded by acres of sloping hillsides. He understood that the pens, shoots and ramps would be used by a group of cowhands to gather and contain cattle, to sort and load them onto trucks so they could be taken to their new home, though he had no actual memory of ever doing any of the work himself.
Chance told him to shovel aside the deadfall and debris that blocked several of the gates while he replaced a rail. “It’s odd giving you directions when you’ve been doing this stuff your entire life,” he said with a wink. “You’re the oldest, you’re usually the one bossing everyone else around.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly myself,” Zane said.
Pike tossed a broken board into the back of his truck. “Still can’t remember anything, huh?”
“No.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and added, “Have you ever heard me mention anyone named Ryan Jones?”
Chance paused mid–hammer stroke and appeared to think. Eventually he shook his head. “No.”
“How about you, Pike?”
“Can’t say as I have. Who is he?”
“Someone in New Orleans. A friend of Kinsey’s. It doesn’t really matter. But let me ask you this. Didn’t it seem funny to you guys that I would leave the ranch during a busy time of year and right when Dad had just gone off on his honeymoon?”
Pike shrugged. “Sure it did. You’re usually not the secretive type. But you’ve organized things here pretty efficiently and we have adequate help.”
“I organize things around here?” Zane asked.
Chance laughed. “Like I said, Gerard, you’re kind of bossy.”
The name still sounded like a character out of a book to Zane. He dug in his shovel. “What about our father?”
“He thinks he’s the brains, but he’s been deferring to you, and to a lesser degree the rest of us, for years. Man, he isn’t going to believe you don’t remember any of this.”
Zane glanced up at the blazing sun. Why in the world had he worn a vest? He glanced at the watch he’d put on after finding it on top of his dresser that morning. “As soon as we’re finished here, I need to get back to Kinsey. I don’t like leaving her alone.”
“That’s fine,” Pike said. “Tomorrow we’re going to round up the rest of the calves over at the Bywater pasture. We could use your help.”
“Sure,” Zane said. Maybe Kinsey could borrow a pair of boots from Lily—they looked about the same size. Then she could go with them.
“Anyway, you don’t have to worry about the new wrangler, Jodie,” Pike added. “I sent him and a few others up to the ridge to bring down the herd and sort out the calves. They’re getting really big. It’s a good thing we found a buyer.”
“So Jodie isn’t on ranch land?”
“Well, define ranch land,” Pike said. “This place is strung together like a patchwork quilt. We own most of it, we rent some of it, we lease other parts. Anyway, just rest assured, Jodie is about ten miles south of here and won’t be back for hours.”
“Even if he wasn’t, no one gets past our iron maiden,” Chance said.
“What iron maiden?”
Pike threw another piece of wood. “That’s what Chance calls Lily.”
“That’s one of the names I have for her,” Chance said. He hammered in a nail on the gate he was repairing and added, “I also call her irritating, defensive, secretive...in fact, if she wasn’t so easy on the eyes, she’d have no redeeming qualities.”
“She’s got a cute kid,” Zane offered.
“Charlie’s okay. A little wimpy, maybe. How he got that way with Lily for a mother is a mystery.”
“Dad likes Lily,” Pike said. “So do Frankie and I. You’re the only one with a problem.”
“Frankie is the youngest, right?” Zane asked. “Is he back on the ranch today?”
“He didn’t show up,” Chance said. “Frankie isn’t exactly dependable.”
“He’s trying to change,” Pike said.
“He needs to try harder,” Chance grumbled.
Zane concentrated on his job for a few minutes, but a growing sense of uneasiness made it hard. He didn’t want to walk out on a job half done, so he redoubled his efforts until a half hour later, the last rail had been replaced and the gates were all operational. “I’m heading back,” he announced.
“I’ll ride with you,” Pike said as he tossed tools into the back of the truck.
Chance banged in another nail. “I’ll be right behind you guys. I want to finish up here first.”
Zane let Pike drive as it was obvious his brother knew the lay of the land a lot better than he did. “Last night you called that big oak up on the plateau the hanging tree. Why is that?” Zane asked as they set off toward the ranch.
“Because of the three men who died hanging from its limbs.”
“Three? When did this happen?”
“A long time ago.” Pike slid him a look. “You saw the ghost town. It used to be a pretty prosperous mining town. Then four men robbed the bank the night a big payload came in. The citizens formed a posse and ran them down. They brought them back to that tree and hung them up to die. Their bodies weren’t cut down for months. And after that, the town died.”
“Yikes,” Zane said. “But you mentioned four thieves.”
“Chance says I’ve always been obsessed with that tree. I don’t know if it’s true, but I do know I had a profound reaction to it yesterday and I’ve dreamed about it a couple of times.”
“Everyone but Dad and Chance get the willies around the tree. The whole town calls us Hanging Tree Ranch, not Hastings Ridge. But in your case it runs deeper than that. A bunch of older boys tied you to the tree when you were about ten. As I’ve heard the story, it took Dad until the middle of the night to find you and by then you’d been stuck for hours listening to coyotes, absolutely terrified. That leaves an impression.”
“No kidding. Do we own the ghost town?”
“Yeah. You’ve been lobbying to plow it under for obvious reasons. Dad wants to take it apart board by board and resell the lumber to a decorator in town. Apparently there’s a market for old wood.”
His voice trailed off and Zane figured it was because he didn’t want to reopen the subject of Ann and Heidi, but he soon realized he was wrong. His brother had let up on the gas pedal. His gaze followed a dust trail going down a road running at right angles to the one they were on. Pike glanced at Zane.
“That looks like Jodie’s old beater truck.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“But you sent him miles away from here.”
“Exactly. He said nothing about not going. This isn’t the road we typically use to get off the land. It leads up into the hills, eventually to the ghost town. I can’t imagine what he’s up to, but he came from the direction of the ranch. Maybe he went there to tell someone he was moving on. Drifters do that, you know. Let’s go check out the house. Jodie might have said something to Lily. We could clear this up in a minute or two.”
Zane turned in his seat to watch Jodie’s truck racing away in the other direction. They picked up speed as the road evened up and within ten minutes were parking by the garden next to the SUV they’d driven from Zane’s house a couple of hours before. Zane was struck with the horrible feeling he was too late, but too late for what? He jumped out of the truck before it came to a full stop. “Kinsey?” he yelled as he ran. He tore through the kitchen door. The room was empty and quiet, still filled with jars of beans and little else. He stood still for a second, then yelled Kinsey’s name again. The silent building seemed to hold its breath and he knew in his bones she was not inside this house. A shiver snaked down his spine.
Alice Sharpe Page 14