Perfect Family

by Potter, Patricia;

  It was just as well. Jessie had wanted to spend this time with Sarah.

  Jessie followed Sarah into the kitchen and greeted Rosa, whom she’d met over the weekend. In minutes, Rosa served them both a salad topped with grilled chicken and a glass of iced tea, then disappeared.

  Jessie was relieved. She wanted to talk to Sarah alone. “I went to the library today,” she said, feeling her way. “I wanted to see whether there was anything about the … deaths fifty years ago.”

  Sarah stilled. “Why? That was so long ago. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Jessie replied.

  “It shouldn’t,” Sarah insisted.

  Jessie wanted to say something about the will, but the words disappeared somewhere in her throat. She should wait, listen. It might never affect her. She might not be Harding’s child. Still, she thought it time to drop a few bombs and see what scattered.

  “My home was burglarized just before I received the invitation to the reunion,” Jessie said. “Then my shop several days ago. And I think someone was in my room on Saturday while I was gone. Coincidence? Or is something going on I know nothing about?”

  It was as frank as she knew how to be. Jessie usually didn’t confront people. Oh, she could play word games, as she had with Alex, but she’d always had a problem with anything that might hurt or anger someone else. She would go a hundred miles out of her way to please people, a habit formed when she tried so hard to please her father. But now it was time for her to be an adult.

  She waited for an answer. For a moment, she didn’t think she would get one. Several emotions passed over Sarah’s face. The first was disbelief. The second, anger. Jessie saw it in the flashing of her eyes. Then she covered both up. A mask settled over her face. But her hands betrayed her. Her fingers curved up into fists.

  “Sarah?” she prompted. Then after a moment’s silence, she added, “I plan to go to the county seat tomorrow. There must be death certificates, an inquest.”

  “Can’t you leave it alone?”

  “No,” Jessie said. “You opened the past, you and your family. You should never have done that if you weren’t willing to let me see everything. Not just what you select.”

  “We don’t even know yet if …” Sarah’s feeble protest trailed off.

  “Don’t you?” Jessie asked softly.

  Sarah shook her head, as if to remove cobwebs there. “I’m sorry. Of course I know.” She bit her lip, just as Jessie often did when nervous. “All right,” she said. “If you are so determined …”

  “I am,” Jessie said. “Tell me about my … about Harding.”

  “There’s not that much to tell,” Sarah said. “No one really knows what happened.”

  “Tell me what you do know.”

  “Heath … well, Heath was never the same when he came back from Europe. I told you his twin brother was killed by a mine. I don’t think I told you Heath saw it happen, was wounded by the same mine. He was a hero when he came home, and girls threw themselves at him. Including Harding’s wife. I think he started believing the world owed him.”

  Sarah sighed. “Lori and Heath had been sweethearts before he went off to war. Lori hadn’t wanted to wait for him, though. She was furious that Heath wouldn’t marry her before he shipped out. She came from nothing, and this family represented everything she wanted. Instead of waiting for Heath, she went after Harding. We tried to warn him, but he was crazy in love.”

  She hesitated, then continued. “We all saw Lori teasing Heath, baiting Harding. She made it clear she thought she married the wrong brother.”

  Brothers in love with the same woman. Pain struck Jessie like a knife. All her life, she had wanted family. Now she was learning that having family could be as painful as having none. Maybe even more so. How had this betrayal affected her father?

  “What happened?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  “No one really knows. Harding might have suspected something. Perhaps he followed his wife. Perhaps he heard that both were lost in a fire and assumed the worst. No one will ever know now. All we know is that all three disappeared on the same day, and the bodies of Heath and Lori were found in a burned-out cabin that belonged to the family. There was no indication of foul play. That’s what the court ruled.”

  But her voice sounded like a recording of something that had been repeated so many times it was almost rote. There seemed no substance, no truth, no conviction in it.

  Jessie knew, though, she was being told that further investigation would tell her no more. She was being discouraged from going to Flagstaff. Would it be a wild-goose chase? Or was there another reason?

  The other questions clouding her mind were more painful. Could her father have been at the cabin? Had he been a witness? More than a witness?

  Her blood chilled at the thought. In any event, what would those events so many years ago have to do with today?

  “So you see,” Sarah was saying, “there is no reason to spend time in musty files. As for those burglaries, what possibly could they have to do with us?”

  Jessie’s instincts were tingling again. She hoped it was merely the accumulation of recent events. She could not believe Sarah was lying, not about something that concerned her safety. She merely nodded. But she knew she was driving to Flagstaff in the morning.

  They finished their luncheon in silence. They both put their dishes in the sink, then Sarah started for the door. Jessie followed her and together they walked to the barn.

  The boy Jessie had seen Saturday night had two horses saddled.

  “Dan’l.” Jessie acknowledged him.

  The boy gave her a grin. “Miss Sarah said to give you Rose.”

  Jessie looked at the mare. She was afraid she would be given a child’s horse after Saturday’s fiasco, but Rose, a gray, looked fit and pleased at the prospect of an outing.

  Sarah winked at her. “Ross said you were a good rider.”

  Jessie couldn’t stop the jolt of pleasure that ran through her. Still, she raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

  “His bark is far worse than his bite,” Sarah said. “He tries to scare everyone off. He respects those who refuse to be intimidated.”

  “I don’t think the latter includes me,” Jessie said wryly.

  “Where did he take you last night?”

  “A Mexican restaurant.”

  “El Cantina?”

  Jessie nodded.

  “He likes you then,” Sarah said with satisfaction.

  For a moment, Jessie wondered why Sarah cared whether Ross liked her or not, particularly in a romantic way. He could be a cousin. But not by blood.

  She decided not to explore that particular thought any longer. He had more than indicated his disinterest in her. Because her left wrist was still sore, she let Dan’l help her mount. The mare took a couple of steps, and she enjoyed the feel of the animal beneath her. She was still sore from her earlier ride, stiff in places she’d forgotten existed, but it was a small enough price for the exhilaration she felt at being in a saddle again. She looked over at Sarah. The older woman swung into the saddle without help. Her back was straight, her hands relaxed. She was as at home in the saddle as Ross.

  Sarah smiled over at her, sharing the same spontaneous pleasure as Jessie. It was written all over her face. The mask was gone. “Come on, Jessie. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost again.”

  That sounded like a fine idea to Jessie. She guided Rose to Sarah’s mare, then kept apace of the older woman as the horses broke into a trot, then a canter.

  The sun’s rays looked like darting flames across the red towers of rock. The wind blew gently. For a moment, all was right with the world. The blue sedan disappeared from her mind. The image of her burglarized apartment faded.

  She felt free. She was finally doing what she’d always been meant to do.

  Ross finished inspecting the water tank as Timber watched carefully. The tank would be vital to the cattle when they were brought down from hi
gher ground. It had been leaking, and it was one of the jobs he didn’t like leaving to someone else. These watering places were too important.

  It could have waited until tomorrow. He knew it. But Sarah had told him this morning that Jessica was expected for lunch and a ride. He knew it was a measure of her pride that she was going to ride again after her mishap. It took guts to do that, especially with an injured wrist. He’d always believed in getting back up after a fall.

  All morning, he’d fought an urge to return to the ranch and ride out with them. But she would be safe with Sarah. He had no doubt of that. He was dismayed, though, that he wanted to see her again. He kept remembering her light scent, the softness of her face, the passion that had roiled in her eyes. Even worse, he recalled how much he’d enjoyed her company. She was bright and inquisitive. She’d enjoyed the cantina as much as he always did, and he’d liked her immediate responsiveness to his friend Ramon.

  Dammit.

  He found the leak and realized he would need help to repair it. Well, he had weeks before they would be bringing the cattle back down. He climbed into his pickup and found himself driving back to the ranch. Maybe he would take a ride. He knew exactly where Sarah would take Jessica.

  He returned only to find Dan’l frowning.

  “What is it, Dan’l?”

  “Mr. Marc took Hellfire out.”

  Ross swore. Hellfire was his best sire; no one rode him except Ross—except for the few times Marc had commandeered the big stallion. Ross had told him repeatedly that he didn’t want the horse ridden by other members of the family. Marc ignored him, just as he had when Ross was a kid. Ross was still the poor relation as far as Marc was concerned. Someone to be used, but most definitely not someone to obey.

  Marc was an adequate rider, but not a good one. He did not ride enough to be expert at it. Like many riders, he thought he was better than he was.

  If Ross had been there, he could have stopped Marc. Hell, he would have used his fists if he’d had to. But Dan’l was defenseless against him. Ross would bet his last cent that Marc had waited until he knew Ross was gone.

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “No, but he took his rifle.”

  That was nothing extraordinary. Marc usually took one with him. So did Ross. This was rattlesnake season.

  Ross went into the barn and took out one of the horses, a quick and smart young stallion named, quite simply, Ginger. He saddled the animal himself, then mounted. He too took a rifle. He often did when he was riding, particularly in the summer because of rattlesnakes and other occasional varmints. In another minute, Ginger was trotting toward the rock tower, Timber running joyously behind him.

  Jessie had thought she’d gotten a sense of place in the past few days. But as she followed Sarah up through steep trails and along rock cliffs, she knew she had not. Not until now. It was in the sweet smell of wildflowers, the plants with exotic names like Spanish bayonet and catsclaw, the cypress trees sculpted by lightning. It was in air so fresh and pure and sweet that it hurt. It was the views of the vermilion cliffs and red rock vistas, in the brief glimpse of a pronghorn elk, the sight of a soaring bald eagle.

  And even rattlesnakes. Sarah had warned her to keep a sharp watch.

  Nothing, not even rattlesnakes, could dim the exultation she felt, the pure joy she felt. They had not seen any other human beings since they left the ranch. There had been rustles in the grass, some shy creature scurrying out of the way. Some birds startled from their perches in trees. But Jessie felt she was a million miles from civilization.

  Sarah didn’t say much. Neither of them did. Jessie was in awe of everything. Sarah just seemed comfortable with it. It seemed almost a part of her. She needed no words. Neither did Jessie. It was enough to share.

  They finally stopped. Sarah dismounted. Jessie slid down. It was easier on her still-sore thighs. They tied the horses to a pine and walked over to the edge of the cliff.

  Sarah pointed. “We call this the Saddle,” she said. “It’s a ridge between two peaks. Down there is the Sunset.”

  Jessie could barely see the ranch house and barn nestled at the base of another jutting tower of rock. She saw the road leading to it. A dark-colored car was inching toward the buildings.

  “They want to develop that land,” Sarah said softly. “A goddamn golf course and lots of little look-alike houses.”

  Jessie started. She had never heard Sarah swear before. But it wasn’t even the words as much as the emotion behind it.

  “Did I tell you I was born there? In one of the bedrooms? All of Hall and Mary Louise’s children were, except the twins.” Sarah appeared lost in the past now. Jessie looked down again, and she saw what she knew Sarah was seeing. Not just buildings. Not even just land. A homestead. There was something about the word that was fraught with meaning. It sent a shiver through her.

  Sarah didn’t say anything else. They both stayed there another moment, then started for the horses.

  Jessie found a rock to help her mount, and they started down, the two horses carefully picking their way over the rough path. Sarah went first, and Jessie followed. She continued to think of the ranch below, what Sarah had said. There’d been so much feeling in the words, so much pain. Well, she would feel pain too, if she was forced to leave the house where she’d been born and where she’d lived all her life.

  A golf course? What an obscene idea.

  They reached the bottom of the path. Sarah started talking again. “The land looked different fifty years ago, before developments dropped the water table.” Tears were in Sarah’s eyes. Jessie suspected such emotion was rare.

  As if to disclaim it, Sarah pressed her mount into a trot, then an easy canter.

  Hoping she would have Sarah’s energy and strength at seventy-odd years, Jessica followed. She felt more of a bonding with the land, a connection with all around her. The wind blew through her hair and kissed her cheeks, and her mount stretched in strong powerful strides that ate up distance. Her mind cleared to all but pleasure.

  Then Sarah slowed, and Jessie slowed her own horse. She caught up with Sarah, and saw her own pleasure reflected on her aunt’s face. Her aunt. How easily she accepted that now. They walked their horses, comfortable with silence, content with the raw, jagged beauty of the country.

  The sound of a rifle shot shattered the quiet companionship. It echoed in the warm air.

  Jessie’s horse pranced nervously for a moment, then quieted under her soothing hands. She looked at Sarah, who pulled up on her horse. They both listened.

  “Hunters probably,” Sarah said. “Poachers. The season hasn’t started yet.”

  Another shot rang out. This one closer.

  “Some fool with more gall than sense,” Sarah remarked.

  The last shot sounded too darn close to Jessie. But it was difficult to tell out here. It could be a mile away.

  Another rang out, and this time she saw dust shoot up not far from where the horses had stopped.

  “Hey,” yelled Sarah. “There’s people here.”

  They both looked around. No one was visible. But then the rough terrain made it possible to hide an army. A new volley of three shots ripped through the valley. Rose made a quick, darting nervous movement, but this time Jessie was prepared.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Sarah said. She pressed her mount into a fast walk, a trot, then a gallop.

  With another quick look around, Jessie followed.

  twelve

  Ross was not there when Jessie and Sarah returned. Dan’l told them that he had gone out looking for them.

  Concern crossed the teenager’s face when Sarah told him they’d heard shots.

  “Both Mr. Marc and Ross had their rifles with them,” he said.

  “Did they leave together?”

  Dan’l shook his head.

  Sarah looked ready to go back and search. But for all her earlier energy, she suddenly looked tired.

  “They’ll be back soon,” Jessie said. “Th
ey must have heard the shots.”

  “Danged hunters,” Sarah said. “I’m going to call the sheriff, have a deputy sent over. We don’t usually have problems like that. People around here respect posted property. It’s considered worse than rustling to hunt on someone’s property.”

  “Rustling?”

  “There’s still some going on,” Sarah said. “Though mostly it’s done with trucks now rather than horses.”

  Jessie slipped off from the horse, grateful to be on solid ground. Her muscles were all complaining again. She barely suppressed a groan.

  Sarah followed, hopping down with ease. But she didn’t start toward the house. Instead, she put the side of her hand to her forehead, shading her eyes as she looked out toward the direction where they came. “I don’t like it,” she mumbled.

  Her voice was so low Jessie barely caught the words.

  “Sarah?” she asked.

  “Oh, never mind an old woman,” Sarah replied.

  “You are anything but an old woman,” Jessie replied honestly. Sarah had as much energy as someone twenty years younger. She probably felt better than Jessie did at the moment.

  Sarah seemed to revive at the words. A slight smile replaced a frown. “You have the Clements blarney,” she said.

  “There’s a Clements blarney?”

  “You mean you haven’t been treated to it? Marc’s probably the best at it.”

  Somehow, the words didn’t sound as light as they were intended. There was a bite in them.

  But Sarah didn’t give her a chance to digest that observation. “Come,” she said, “Let’s get a cool drink while we wait for them.”

  Wait for them. Jessie wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to wait for them, that she could keep her feelings as contained as Ross did, that she wouldn’t look flushed and flustered. It was immensely disturbing that he was the first man to do that to her in years. It was even more disturbing that he was the type of man who was so difficult to read. He hoarded his feelings like a miser held on to his last penny.