In the Delaney living room beaming from ear to ear, Mark swept Roxanne into a bear hug. “That's my girl! I always knew you'd have enough sense to choose a valley man.”
He pumped Jeb's hand up and down enthusiastically. “Welcome to the family, Jeb. I sure hope you're going to be better at controlling her than I ever was.”
“Hey, come on,” Roxanne said. “I wasn't that bad. And besides, I don't need anyone to control me.”
“Absolutely,” KC agreed. “If anything, it'll be Roxy controlling Jeb, not the other way around.”
Helen looked from Roxanne's face to Jeb's. Her eyes were soft, her expression misty and tender. “Oh, I don't know. I think they'll control each other.” She flung her arms around Roxanne's neck. “Oh, sweetie, I'm so happy for you. And pleased.” She glanced at Jeb. “I always had a soft spot for your new husband and I'm delighted to welcome him to our family.” She turned back to Roxanne and kissed her on the cheek. “Be happy. You deserve it.”
The meal that followed was full of excited chatter and laughter and Roxanne decided that if she had planned it, she couldn't have thought of a better way to celebrate her marriage to Jeb. KC and Helen were busy with plans for a reception to be held in two weeks at the community center and while Roxanne thought it unnecessary, she realized that it was important to the two older women. They were in their element and she would have had to have a harder heart than she did to deny them the pleasure they took from all their schemes.
It was late when Jeb and Roxanne finally drove away from his parents' house, but not too late for them to swing by and load up Dawg and Boss. Dawg was ecstatic to see them, jumping up and sharing slobbery kisses with them and Boss even seemed to have missed them, deigning to give both Roxanne and Jeb a damp lick on the cheek before settling down.
In bed that night, Dawg nestled in her habitual spot at Roxanne's back and Boss keeping guard at the foot of the bed, Jeb pulled Roxanne next to him. “Happy?” he asked.
Roxanne smiled dreamily. “More than I ever thought possible.” She turned her head slightly to look at him in the darkness. “You?”
He kissed her. “You bet.” He hesitated. “What sort of a honeymoon do you want?”
“Well, unless you want to travel, I'd just as soon stay home,” Roxanne answered truthfully. “Although I suppose we could go away for a weekend to the Napa Valley or something.”
They looked at each other, grinned and said simultaneously, “Nah.”
“How did I get so lucky?” Jeb asked. “A Reno marriage and no honeymoon—what more could a guy ask for?”
“Don't push your luck,” Roxanne warned with a smile. “I'm sure I'll think of some way to make up for it in the future.”
Roxanne woke up early Sunday morning with the flu. Staggering back to bed after her third trip to the bathroom in minutes, she lay back down and groaned, “Fine way to start out our married life together.”
“Hey, we swore in sickness and in health, remember?”
“Yeah, but I thought the sickness was way in the future, when we were old and gray and doddering around.”
“Want me to fix you some chicken noodle soup or something?”
Roxanne's stomach roiled and as she raced for the bathroom, she cried, “No!”
By afternoon the worst of the virus seemed to have passed and they spent the day, in between the constant jangle of the phone—the news of their marriage had spread fast—just puttering around, making plans, making love, and laughing. Jeb had made arrangements to take the following week off and they were both looking forward to it.
Roxanne still felt kind of punky Monday so they spent another quiet day. The phone had ceased ringing every five minutes and they figured the worst of the storm was over. Jeb even risked a brief trip to town for milk and 7-UP and reported back that he was only mobbed half a dozen times. Smiling as he put away the milk and fixed Roxanne a glass of 7-UP with ice, he said, “I ran the first gauntlet—next time it's your turn.”
“Hopefully by then we'll be old news.” “Hopefully.” Handing her the glass, he said, “By the way, I bumped into Don Bean and after thumpingme on the back with that ham-size fist of his, he mentioned that since we're having a dry spell, he'd like to get started on the well house. I told him I'd discuss it with you and that one of us would get back to him.”
It was decided between them that now was as good a time as any to tear down the old well house and get started on constructing the new one. They also talked about the barn that Don would be building once the rainy season was over.
Sipping her 7-UP Roxanne said, “Why don't you talk to Don about the barn? You'll know more than I will about what we'll need. All I ask is that it not be painted red and that it's not just a big square box. Oh, and that it doesn't block any views.”
“OK.”
Jeb called Don Bean and they made plans for Wednesday.
Don Bean accompanied by Profane Deegan arrived bright and early Wednesday morning. Still not up to par, despite Jeb's objections, Roxanne insisted on dressing and hobbling into the kitchen and fixing coffee for them.
Seated at the kitchen table both men congratulated her on the marriage and several minutes were spent relating how surprised everyone was in the valley about it. Roxanne listened, nodded, and smiled wanly. “Sorry, fellas,” she said after a bit, “but I'm going to have to go back to bed.” She waved a hand in Jeb's direction. “He can supervise.”
Reaching the bedroom, heedless of her clothes, Roxanne crawled back into bed, only to rise five minutes later and race to the bathroom. She was not enjoying the flu at all.
Jeb got the men started. It was decided that before tearing down the old well house that they'd go ahead and use the backhoe Don had brought and dig out for the new foundation. They could get it dug and poured today and worry about demolition of the old well house while the new foundation was setting up. Jeb watched them for a while, hoping the sound of the big equipment wouldn't bother Roxanne. Concerned about her, after a minute or two, Jeb left the two men at it and walked back inside. Finding her lying limply on the bed, he sank down beside her and felt her forehead with his hand.
“It's not my forehead,” she said grumpily, “that's sick. It's my stomach.”
“That's why it's called stomach flu,” Jeb teased, brushing her hair back from her brow. “Feel pretty bad?'
She made a face. “Awful, but I feel even worse that I'm making your time off miserable.”
“Better or worse, remember?” he said softly, his eyes full of love.
She smiled and kissed his hand. “Better or worse.” They both heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. “Expecting company?” Jeb asked.
“Not me.”
He got up and walked into the bathroom to look out the window that faced the front. His face grim, he came back into the bedroom. “Milo Scott,” he said.
Roxanne grimaced. “At least we know why he's so interested in what we're doing.”
“Yeah, but I think it's time I run him off for good and let him know that his company isn't welcome here anymore.” He cocked his brow at her. “You mind?”
“Be my guest.”
Chapter
19
The more Roxanne considered it the more she didn't like the idea of Jeb confronting Milo. She wasn't afraid anything would happen, but she decided that she'd feel better about it if she were there to make certain that Milo didn't start trouble. Not, she reminded herself as she levered up out of bed, that Jeb couldn't handle the situation just fine. He could. But Milo might need to know that Jeb wasn't acting solely on his own. That she concurred with his actions. She wouldn't put it past the little weasel to come back and try to inveigle his way into her good graces. Better he find out right now that she and Jeb were in this together.
She staggered to the bathroom, stuck her tongue out at her pale features, and threw cold water in her face. She dragged a comb through her hair, pinched her cheeks, and straightened her clothes. God! She felt like death warmed over.
Jeb spotted her and frowned. He stalked over to her and demanded, “What are you doing out here? You're sick.”
“I thought maybe you could use a little moral support,” she muttered. “Milo can be awfully hard to convince sometimes—especially if he doesn't want to be.” She smiled at him. “United front and all that. I think he needs to see that I'm 100% behind you in this—that it isn't just your idea.”
Jeb nodded. “OK. I'll accept that.”
She looked in Milo's direction. “He give any reason for being here?”
Jeb smiled grimly. “Oh, yeah, said he heard in town that Don was working here and drove out to see if he needed any help. Real Samaritan our Scott.”
They joined the others. Don Bean was operating the backhoe, Profane standing nearby with a shovel to clean out any dirt left behind by the big shovel. Milo Scott was off to the side watching.
It was amazing the amount of work machinery can accomplish. The original well house had been about three-by-four. It was adequate, but left very little room to work on the pump should the need arrive. Don had suggested that the new building be expanded to “sixby-eight” and Roxanne had agreed. The backhoe was making short work of digging the foundation trenches and Roxanne stared at wide swathes the shovel had already made around the building. There were only a couple of feet more of shaley clay soil to be dug out on the south side of the small building before the trenches were done.
It would have been hard for Jeb to have any sort of a conversation, friendly or otherwise, with Milo over the noise of the backhoe and so he bided his time.
After nodding curtly to Milo, Roxanne walked around to stand in front of the backhoe, near one of the small piles of dirt scattered around the perimeter. The ease with which the machinery accomplished a job that would ordinarily have taken a man with a shovel several hours of hard backbreaking work fascinated her. She watched mesmerized as the big shovel bit down into the earth right on top of a wispy little pine tree and scooped up the pine along with a wheelbarrow or more of dirt and then dropped it on the nearby pile. Amazing, she thought. Just amazing.
She was so riveted by the action of the backhoe that when the metal box fell out of the shovel and onto the pile of dirt she didn't realize what it was. She stared at the rectangular shape and then it hit her.
She yelled and scrambled over to the pile of dirt. “Jeb! We found it! We found it!”
Scrabbling around in the dirt, she pulled out the rusty metal box. “It was the pine tree,” she said excitedly. “He buried it near the well house and then had to have planted that little pine tree to mark the exact spot.”
Everyone heard her shout. Don Bean stopped the backhoe and climbed down. Profane, shovel still in hand, ambled over. Jeb was at Roxanne's side in two swift strides. Only Milo hung back.
Jeb took the box from Roxanne. “Well, well, well,” he said, “I wonder what we have here.” He cut his eyes over to where Milo stood stiffly. “You got any ideas?”
“Hey, don't look at me,” Milo said, raising up his hands defensively. “Your wife found it. Maybe she knows.”
“You think maybe it's what you were looking for in the greenhouses?” Don asked with a frown.
“I wouldn't be surprised,” Jeb replied, examining the box. It was small, but not so small that it couldn't comfortably hold the amount of drugs and money Dirk was reputed to have stolen. A cheap lock hung from the clasp.
Taking his cell phone from his belt, his gaze on Milo Scott, he called the office. It only took him a couple of minutes to explain the purpose of the call.
His call finished, he put away the phone and glanced over at Milo. “If this holds what I think it does, our mystery is solved. Guess there won't be any reason for you to keep hanging around anymore, will there?”
Milo's face was hard. “Don't know what you're talking about. I only came out here as a friend of Roxanne's.”
'Wrong,” said Roxanne. “I warned you right from the get-go that we weren't that good of friends. I think you ought to get in your truck and mosey on down the road.”
“And don't come back,” Jeb growled, a threat in his voice.
Milo hesitated and Roxanne said firmly, “That goes double for me, Milo.”
As if to emphasize Roxanne's words, Don Bean formed a fist in one big hand and rubbed it in the other. Profane stepped up beside him, the shovel held at an unfriendly angle. Milo looked at the four of them lined up against him and calculated his odds. Not good.
Jeb could see Milo turning over the situation in his mind. It must be killing him to know that Dirk's stash had indeed been hidden on the property and that he had missed it. The property and buildings had been searched and re-searched and even Jeb had decided that Dirk must have hidden the money and drugs somewhere else. But he hadn't. Dirk had buried it right here. The spot marked as Roxanne said by the well house and that straggling little pine tree.
Knowing he didn't have a chance in hell of getting his hands on the drugs and money, Milo shrugged. “OK. Fine. I know when I'm not wanted.” He swung around and headed for his truck.
“Make sure you tell the people you work for that there's no reason to keep looking. You can tell them from me that everything is safely in the hands of the law,” Jeb called out.
Don Bean burst out in a loud laugh. “Yeah, and I'm a witness.”
“Goddamn right,” added Profane. “We're all goddamn witnesses.”
“Think I'll go put on another pot of coffee,” Roxanne said. “Anyone else ready for a cup?”
The three men followed her into the house and soon they were gathered around the kitchen table, drinking coffee.
Profane eyed the metal box. “You gonna open the goddamn thing? Let us see what the fuck we dug up. It's only fair.”
It was against procedure but Jeb decided that Profane had a point. He made short work of the lock, flipped open the lid. In silence they all stared inside the box … the empty box.
It was Profane who said it all. “Goddammit! The damn thing is empty! We've been tricked. Who in the hell would take the time to hide and bury a goddamn empty box? Why the fuck was Milo so damned interested in it?”
Jeb rubbed his chin. “I think that old Dirk fooled all of us—including Milo Scott.”
Profane muttered something exceedingly profane under his breath.
“Maybe it's the wrong box,” Roxanne said slowly. “Maybe he had more than one hiding place.”
“He could have, but I doubt it. He obviously hid this box for some reason.”
“What's supposed to have been in the box?” Don. Bean asked, his pale blue eyes fixed on Jeb's face.
Jeb grimaced. He should just tell Don that this was an official inquiry and he wasn't at liberty to comment, but an idea was taking shape in his brain. Milo believed that they'd found the money and drugs. Milo was probably even now letting the drug lords in Oakland know that fact. If there was ever a hint that Dirk's stash hadn't been found, Roxanne's place would again become the focus of some not-very-nice people. So why disillusion them?
He glanced across from Don and Profane and made a decision. “How,” he asked lightly, “would you two like to be part of a scam? But you have to swear never to mention to a soul what we did.”
Don leaned back in his chair, his eyes dancing. “Something to do with Milo Scott thinking that we found more than an empty box?”
Jeb nodded.
“Sure, why not?” Don replied, a grin spreading across his big face. “What did you have in mind?”
“Me, too,” exclaimed Profane. “Won't say a word to nobody.”
“Milo Scott thinks that we've just found money and drugs, hidden by Dirk before he was shot in Oakland,” Jeb began. �
��So why not make that a fact?”
Roxanne frowned. “But it was a lot of drugs and money. I'd be willing to throw in a little cash, but not thousands. And where would we get any drugs?”
Profane blushed and coughed. “Uh, I might have a little weed in the truck.” He shot Jeb a nervous look. “Urn, I just use it for medicinal purposes, you know.” Jeb shook his head and put up his hand. “Don't tell me any more. Just go get it.”
As Profane disappeared out the door, Jeb said to the other two, “We don't need to bankrupt ourselves—a couple of hundred dollars should do it.”
Roxanne ran to get her purse and riffling through her cash counted out about a hundred dollars in small bills. When she came back to the kitchen, Profane was handing Jeb a little plastic bag with loose marijuana in it. Jeb gently placed it in the empty box.
Roxanne gave Jeb the cash. He checked his wallet and added another hundred. Looked across at Don. “You with us?”
Good-naturedly Don counted out about seventy-five dollars. “Getting to be an expensive scam,” he commented mildly.
“But it ought to do the trick,” Jeb answered with a grin. “The box you dug up and Scott saw now holds money and drugs—which is all we care about Scott knowing.” He glanced at Don and Profane. “Of course, it might help if you two started the valley gossip going about how much money and drugs were found in the box.”
Profane and Don grinned. “Be our pleasure,” Don said, chuckling. “A real pleasure.”
“So what do we do now?” Roxanne asked.
Jeb smiled. “We wait for the nice officer on duty to come and pick it up from me.”
The men returned to their work and Roxanne did a few housewifely things, her thoughts on their “find.” What had happened to Dirk's real stash? she wondered as she put the cups in the dishwasher. Had he spent it all before he'd been murdered? Or was it still buried somewhere on her property? She didn't really care—it was now something she no longer had to worry about—or continued “visits” by Milo Scott.
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