Twilight, Texas

by Ginger Chambers

  “Oh, there was a Nate Barlow, all right,” Diane reassured them. “He was a pretty rotten fellow from what I can see. Robbed stages, robbed banks, shot and killed a few people. I just don’t see anything to confirm the rest of it. Him being a hero and all.”

  Lee rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired, and he hadn’t expected anything like this. “Maybe you just need to look some more.”

  “I thought that, too. There’s another town, closer to here actually, but not in the same county. It’s the county seat of Briggs County—Del Norte.”

  “Del Norte,” Lee repeated. He’d been there many times during his visits to the Parker ranch. Besides being the county seat, it was Briggs County’s largest town—which still didn’t mean it was all that large.

  “I thought maybe I’d take a look there. See if I can find anything. Just in case the old records were sent to the wrong place when the parent county divided.”

  “Did you say anything to Bette about this?”

  “No.”

  “To anyone else?”

  “Do I look like a fool? I did ask around a little, just to see what people had been told, what they remembered.”

  “And?”

  “Everybody I talked to knows only the one account.”

  “You didn’t mention the Parker name.”

  Diane laughed. “I thought I’d let you handle that one yourself.”

  He stood up. “I don’t remember anything about it in the family history. Shannon, Rafe’s wife—she’s the one who put it together for Mae. I’ll give her a call. See what she has to say.”

  “Good idea,” Diane said. “In the meantime we keep this strictly between ourselves, right?”

  “Right,” Lee and Manny agreed in unison.

  Lee started off to his room but was called back by a troubled Diane.

  “I don’t really want to tell you this,” she said just outside the door, “but I may have made things worse between you and Karen. She got angry with me because I defended you. But I couldn’t just let her keep thinking you’re some kind of inhuman monster. I tried to make it up with her, but I don’t know. She seemed kind of...distant at the end.”

  “Hey,” he said quietly, “it’s okay.”

  She shook her head. “No, I should have stayed out of it. What business is it of mine, anyway?”

  “You were just being a friend.”

  Her blue eyes held concern. “She means something to you, doesn’t she? More than just your brother’s—”

  “I don’t know what she means,” Lee said honestly.

  Diane read something in his face that made her bite her bottom lip. Then she whispered tightly, “I’m sorry,” and went back inside.

  Lee lay down on his own bed fully clothed. It had been an eventful day. Packed fuller than most. But then he didn’t end most of his days wondering if, somehow, he might have managed to—

  No. He wasn’t in love with Karen Latham! It was...something else. He felt badly for her, ashamed of the way his brother had treated her.

  A memory lingered of the way she’d looked all those years ago in her white wedding gown, innocent, vulnerable, in urgent need of protection. Like a delicate blossom about to be crushed. She’d turned to him for help, and all he could do was break the terrible news that Alex was gone. It was the hardest thing he’d done in his life up to that point. And it still stood alone in his mind as the most difficult.

  Had he fallen in love with her a little bit then? Was that why he’d never forgotten her?

  EXCTTEMENT WHIPPED through Twilight like a fever the next morning. The “Western Rambles” crew was starting interviews. No one wanted to work during the tapings. Everyone planned to watch as first Pepper and Rhonda went before the camera, then Mary and Benny and, finally, John.

  Karen considered herself immune to the illness. Her day’s schedule called for her to resume her work downstairs in a continuing effort to clear and organize the crowded puzzle pieces that were her aunt’s legacy.

  She wasn’t unaware of what was happening, though. Her bellwether was the cessation of construction, which resumed anywhere from a half hour to an hour later. By midafternoon she’d noted at least three such stoppages. It was only during the last that her curiosity became piqued enough to draw her to the front window.

  A small crowd had gathered across the street at the well. She watched as Lee, still wearing jeans but with a far nicer shirt, spoke with John. He was motioning this way and that—at the well, at the tree behind it, toward the houses on either side and behind, then across the street to where she stood. Karen pulled away from the window. She didn’t want him to see her standing there, watching! But she didn’t have to worry. When she chanced to look again, he’d moved on to talk with Diane and Manny. Soon everything that needed to be resolved was resolved, and the interview started after one last check of the principals’ mikes.

  John, it seemed, was going to act as host—as if he were escorting Lee, and through him, the audience, around town for the first time. Karen saw them make several starts, then finally continue for a piece, while John told the story of the well. She saw him gesture, saw Manny lean over the cleared opening of the well, shining the shoulder-held camera’s bright light toward the bottom.

  The interview proceeded with numerous starts and stops, until finally they left the well—Manny walking backward, his camera lens fixed on the two men, while Diane, wearing a set of headphones, fiddled with the dials on a small black box.

  The crowd followed, having become quickly educated about staying out of camera range. John and Lee stopped in front of the Lady Slipper to talk, but contrary to Karen’s expectations, they didn’t go inside. Instead, they started down the sidewalk... in her direction.

  For a second she panicked. She was afraid they might try to come in. John, she knew, wouldn’t think a thing of it. And Lee—She wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that just to irritate her.

  But after passing the mercantile, they also walked past the antique shop and ended up going all the way down the plank sidewalk to the hotel.

  “Isn’t this great?” Bette enthused, taking a moment to pop into the shop. “John’s a wonder. I never knew—” She laughed. “I could be married to a big star and not know it!”

  “He did look as if he were having a good time,” Karen said, smiling.

  “Oh, he is!” She gave Karen an estimating look. “Aren’t you curious about how these things are done?”

  “Not particularly,” Karen fibbed.

  “It’s very interesting. Why don’t you come along? We’re heading out to the cemetery next to look at Nate Barlow’s grave.”

  Karen frowned. “Nate Barlow?”

  “Yeah. Nate Barlow...the outlaw. You know, the one at the well?”

  “I know who Nate Barlow is. But I never knew he was buried in our cemetery.”

  “Where else would they have put him after they hanged him?” Bette quipped. “Come see for yourself! His headstone took a tumble, John said, but he found it and set it up again. It’s there now, pretty as you please.”

  “I might do that. Only...later.”

  “You know, Karen. It’s really not right to hold something against a person that he didn’t do. That’s what Augusta would tell you.”

  “Aunt Augusta would understand.”

  Bette tilted her head. “Oh? She blamed Lee, too?”

  Karen set her lips, unwilling to reply.

  Bette glanced at the door, anxious to be away. Yet she took time to say, “You seem to have a blind spot where he’s concerned, honey. It might not hurt to figure out why.” Then with a little wave she hurried outside and broke into a trot to catch up with the others.

  Karen stared after her. A blind spot? What was Bette trying to say? What did she suspect?

  With the light of a new day, Karen had considered herself better able to deal with yesterday’s confusions. She’d been caught off guard, she decided. She couldn’t be held responsible for anything she’d thought or f
elt or done.

  And most of all, she wasn’t attracted to Lee Parker!

  THE DAY’S work HAD GONE exceptionally well, the crew agreed as they wrapped up shooting in late afternoon. Almost everything was a keeper. Rhonda and Pepper had been both fun and uninhibited in telling their stories—Pepper about her experiences in rodeo barrel racing and Rhonda, surprisingly, as a real estate agent. Then Mary had been more forthcoming than Lee expected, showing them her specialty pottery pieces and giving them a glimpse into the tragedy of Benny’s accident, but mostly concentrating on how they’d moved beyond that to a satisfactory life in Twilight. Even Benny had been persuaded to say a few words. Then John had given them an introduction to the town and its history and the reasons why it remained so true in appearance to its past. Two of the people who’d been most reticent about being interviewed, Carmelita and her daughter, had come to him afterward and shyly told him that now they weren’t nearly so afraid.

  As always, they shot far more footage than they’d ever use, but it was better to have an embarrassment of riches than not to have enough to make up a good show. And with an hour to fill, Lee wanted plenty.

  Tomorrow they would do the remaining preliminary interviews, some of which they expected to have to shoot over. Then they’d start to expand, chronicling the preparations for the movie’s preview and recording the citizens’ hopes and dreams for their tiny town. They needed to shoot interiors, too. Of the Lady Slipper Saloon, the mercantile, the hotel. And particularly of the dance hall—both before and after the studio workers performed their magic on what was now a big empty room in relatively seedy condition. John had also invited them to watch as they made the signs that would guide tourists along the roads to Twilight

  From this point they would record everything that happened in the tiny town, hoping to capture the increasing excitement, the pressures, the tensions, the hard work. They wanted their viewers to identify with these people, to pull for them in each and every way.

  Only one thing could muddy the water—the question about Nate Barlow. In the midst of everything, Diane planned to squeeze in a trip to Del Norte tomorrow, and Lee had to remember to call Shannon.

  DIANE AND MANNY CALLED IT a day shortly after the evening meal and headed off for their bedroom.

  “You must be exhausted, too,” Bette said. She was curled up in an easy chair that matched the one John was stretched out in, fast asleep. He hadn’t lasted ten minutes after sitting down.

  Lee smiled. “Yeah, it wears you out.”

  Bette’s gaze moved over her husband. “He had a great time today,” she said.

  “He’s a natural,” Lee agreed.

  Bette started to say something else, hesitated, then hedged, “Now, you can tell me this is none of my business, but...you aren’t married, are you?”

  Lee had let his head fall back on the rear couch cushion to rest his neck. But at that question, he lifted it, curious. “No, why?”

  Bette shrugged. “Well, I only wondered because, well...”

  “Out with it, Bette,” he teased.

  “I was just wondering if that was the reason Karen’s so dead set against you. Like maybe she once found you attractive, then discovered you were married... with six or eight kids or something.”

  Lee chuckled. “Not a wife, not a child.”

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly, embarrassed. “I really do need to learn to keep my mouth shut. I keep saying things I shouldn’t!”

  “What makes you think she might find me attractive? Or...did,” Lee asked.

  Bette shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. People sometimes pretend to hate what they love. You know, that kind of thing.”

  “I’m afraid in her case hate is simply hate.”

  “I’ve known her for a long time, remember,” Bette said, frowning. “I keep picking up on something when she talks about you.”

  “She talks about me?” Ridiculously, his heart had leaped. What was he? Sixteen? Still, he waited for the answer.

  “Only when I bring you up myself, and then not very much. But it’s just... something. Something’s there.” Her frown cleared. “But I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that. You probably have women all over the country waiting for you to call.”

  “‘Western Rambles’ keeps me pretty busy.”

  “Not that busy, surely.”

  “As you saw today, it takes up a lot of time.”

  “You sound just like Karen. What’s wrong with you young people today? Single-mindedness is good, but not to the point where you don’t have an actual life! One day you’re going to wake up, be my and John’s age, and you’ll wonder where in heck all that time went!”

  “Tell me about Karen,” Lee said, smiling.

  Bette settled back comfortably in her chair. “I’ve known her since she was little. Is that a good place to start? She was the cutest thing with those big brown eyes, those curls and those deep, deep dimples when she smiles.”

  “She smiles?” Lee asked facetiously.

  “Of course she smiles!” Bette grinned. “Not at first, mind you. Her parents were older and highly educated. They expected a lot from her from an early age. When she was six—the first time I saw her—she was this quiet little thing. I was almost afraid to say boo to her, afraid she’d run away. Then after Augusta had had her for a few weeks, the real Karen started to bloom and she was this happy, carefree little child with a sunny disposition. Then she went away for the next school year and came back again all solemn. A few weeks later, the real Karen.” Bette sighed. “It went on like that for the first few summers, until finally, it got to where just as soon as the dust settled from her parents’ car leaving, she’d be our Karen again!”

  “‘Our’ Karen?” he repeated.

  “Augusta felt like her mother and I darned near felt like her aunt Neither one of us hens had a little chick to call our own, so we kind of adopted Karen. Not that she ever knew it, of course. It was just something we did...quietlike, to ourselves.”

  “How long did she come here?” Lee asked, thinking of the coincidences in their lives—that both had spent a series of summers in nearly the same area of West Texas.

  “Until she was thirteen. That’s when Mother and Father decided she had to get serious about college and needed to study all the time. Can you imagine! At thirteen! She was still a baby! She should’ve been out and about, having fun. Coming to see us...”

  “I met her parents.”

  “At the wedding, yes.”

  “They hate the Parkers, too, now.”

  Bette tipped her head. “Did you know? Except for Augusta, no one in Twilight knew a thing about that wedding. First time I knew was the other night when Karen ran out.” She stopped to ponder. “I’ve been wondering about that...why Augusta failed to mention it.”

  Lee had a feeling he knew, but didn’t see how he could say anything without causing hurt to his host and hostess. And he didn’t want to do that. He liked them. They were true salt-of-the-earth types.

  He pushed to his feet. “I feel like a walk. Want to come?”

  Bette brightened, then glanced at John, still snoring softly in the chair. “I’d better not. I need to get my man off to bed before he wakes up with his back hurting him.”

  Lee nodded and turned for the door.

  KAREN HAD A LOT of nervous energy she couldn’t seem to shake. She should be tired enough to fall into bed and go straight to sleep again, as she had last night, even with all the tension and distress. This evening, though, her senses were on high alert. She was aware of everything. The faint scent of lilacs that lingered in her aunt’s apartment, any little sound, a faraway voice wafting on the almost still air.

  Part of her problem was that it was finally beginning to dawn on her just how valuable her aunt’s collection was. Even at a conservative estimate, with a tremendous amount yet to be gone through, it had to be in the thousands of dollars. Possibly even the hundreds of thousands. One article after another—some
of high individual value, many more with moderate to low value—it all added up. Her aunt had left her a small fortune!

  Karen found that difficult to comprehend. Her parents had never been rich, but they’d never hurt for money, either. So, not having been without, she’d never particularly felt the need for great amounts of it. Of more importance to her was the ability to go her own way. To be independent. To make her own decisions. Even to fail. Her aunt’s legacy would give her that independence. But at the same time, the prospect was slightly unsettling.

  She had to get out of the apartment! She had to move, stretch her limbs. She didn’t want to think about money, or independence, or the need for or lack of anything. Nothing. She wanted only to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, preferably in rapid succession.

  Karen walked for about an hour, enjoying the peace, the quiet, the way the air cooled as dusk lengthened. True to her resolve, she hadn’t thought about anything of importance...until she once again neared Twilight. Then Bette’s comment about Nate Barlow’s headstone made her curious, and she veered off onto the path that led to the cemetery.

  As she passed Pete’s shack she had an attack of conscience. How was he? Where was he? Was he all right? His great age had to make roughing it more difficult now. If he just wouldn’t be so stubborn, so determined to stand in the way. But changing Pete was an impossibility. She could more easily flap her arms and fly.

  The cemetery was set apart from the area around it by a low fence. Wild grasses grew in clumps, both within and without the boundary. Some graves were marked by old wooden crosses, some had standing headstones. None had current dates. No one had been buried there for the past thirty years.

  Karen moved from headstone to headstone, reading the names of people from long ago. She was having no luck locating the one she was searching for until she reached the last row. It was a little away from the others, set off to the side...possibly segregated because even though he’d died a hero, he hadn’t been one during the rest of his life.