MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN

by Christine Rimmer

  When he pulled up in front of the house where he'd grown up, he wasted no time. He jumped out of the pickup and marched up to the door, which he banged on for a good minute to give the old man a chance to get his butt out of bed. Then he waited, expecting a rumpled, grouchy Oggie to fling back the door and swear at him for disturbing an old man's slumber. But that didn't happen.

  He tried the door. It was open so he went on in.

  A quick pass through all the rooms proved that Oggie wasn't there. So Jared went out back to check the garage. Not counting the usual clutter, he found it empty. Oggie's ancient Eldorado was nowhere to be seen.

  Jared stood in the driveway and rubbed his chin. Then he climbed back in his pickup and headed for Main Street

  once more.

  * * *

  At exactly ten-thirty, Eden parked her car in the small lot behind The Hole in the Wall. She got out of the car and did not lock it behind her. That was another thing she loved about North Magdalene. You never had to lock up anything. No one ever stole anything here. It simply was not done. She let herself in the back way with her own key and set about getting ready to open up at eleven.

  Inside, the tavern was as dim and shadowy as most bars, but much cleaner and more welcoming than it had been before Eden became Oggie's partner. Eden smiled to herself in satisfaction at the scrubbed-clean bar and tables and the deep shine she herself had waxed into the hardwood floor. She glanced up in approval at the new molded ceiling. She'd paid for it and had it installed not too long ago. The old one had been riddled with bullet holes. Oggie used to be forever shooting holes in it with his .38 special, trying to get his customers' attention long enough that they'd break up whatever brawl happened to be going on at the time.

  Since Eden had become Oggie's partner, there had been no brawls.

  Yes, Eden had done a heck of a job with the place. And next spring, when she opened up The Mercantile Grill in the vacant landmark building next door, people would be coming from the small towns all around the area to enjoy an evening of good food and good times in the charming gold rush town of North Magdalene. Feeling quite satisfied with herself and her plans, Eden went about counting the take from last night and setting up the cash drawer for the day and evening ahead. She had the drawer in order and was sliding it back into the register, when she thought she heard the back door squeak.

  She turned around and peered into the shadows of the hall that led to the door. But she saw no one, so she shrugged and went out to the main floor to take the chairs off the tables, where Oggie left them each night after mopping up.

  A moment later, she turned around again and came face-to-face with Jared Jones.

  Eden gasped in frightened surprise. And then she realized who it was.

  "What is the matter with you?" She exerted great effort to keep her voice calm. "Can't you enter a room like a normal human being?"

  "Sorry." He didn't look sorry at all. He immediately demanded, "And just what the hell are you doing here?"

  Eden glared at him. She was getting tired of the way he kept popping up out of nowhere every time she turned around. Also, she was not looking forward to his reaction when she told him why she was here. She wished she had told him earlier, as she'd meant to, right after he'd finished that nice breakfast she'd cooked for him. Now, in the dimness of the deserted tavern, with him scowling and fuming at her, seemed altogether a bad time.

  Well, to be honest, anytime was probably a bad time.

  She decided to put off answering him, though she knew that in the end there was no escaping his finding out. She turned her back on him again and continued taking down the chairs.

  Jared wasn't about to be stalled. He grabbed her elbow. "Answer me, damn it." He whirled her around to face him.

  And their eyes met.

  And it was happening again. The exact same way it had happened this morning, only more intense. As sudden as a flash fire and every bit as hot, it arced between them. A searing burst of sexual heat.

  "Damn," he muttered darkly. He tugged her up closer, so her breasts just grazed his hard chest.

  Eden felt her nipples tightening, a sweetly agonizing sensation that set off an answering awareness in her most private place.

  "Oh, no," she whispered on a breath.

  "Damn," he said again.

  Then, heaven knew how, she found the strength to pull away. He didn't try to stop her. In fact, he let go and quickly stepped back from her.

  Shaken, weak-kneed, she patted her hair, which he'd never even touched. Then she pulled herself together and forced herself to take down the last of chairs.

  She was careful, as she did this, not to look at him. And anyway, she didn't need to look at him. She knew exactly what he was doing. It was just what she was doing. He was trying to put that instant of hunger and desire they'd just shared completely out of his mind.

  At last he demanded, "Where's my father?"

  Lord, she thought, this is an effort. This man is rude and crude. He doesn't even have a good sense of humor. And still I wish he'd grab me and hold me close and put his lips on mine and … oh, I can't let myself even think what else.

  She wanted to tell him to take a hike—almost as much as she longed to move closer to him and see if he'd grab more than her arm this time.

  Somehow, she kept her distance and spoke civilly. "If he's not at his house, he's probably fishing. But I don't really know. He's not due in here until seven tonight."

  He scanned the large, shadowy room, obviously ticking off the changes she'd made. "How long have you been working for my father?"

  "Three months." Eden drew herself up. Then she said the words that she regretted almost before they were fully out of her mouth. "And I don't work for him, I work with him. We're partners."

  The pause that ensued lasted a very long time. Eden stared at his stunned face and accepted the grim fact that she'd really put her foot in it. She truly had meant to tell him about the partnership in a more tactful manner. But a woman would have to be a saint to stay diplomatic around this barbarian.

  "Partners?" Jared's dismay was painful to look at.

  "Yes." From the way he was looking at her, Eden decided maybe she'd be better off to put a little distance between them. She trotted purposefully to the end of the bar. The flap there was up, so she darted through the opening, flipping it shut behind her.

  Once she had the bar between them, she dared to face him. He was watching her the way a cat looks at a canary. If he'd had a tail, it would have been twitching. She was acutely aware that the bar would be no barrier at all if he really wanted to get to her.

  Jared spoke, his voice low and icy cold. "I suppose you have some damn piece of paper that says you own half this place, just like you've got one that says you can stay in my house."

  She knew it would do no good to hedge. She looked him square in the eye. "I've spent most of my savings, between what I paid your father outright to become his partner and the improvements I've made since then. You can be sure I have a contract that says what I get in return for what I've spent." Then she added without pausing to consider what the words would imply. "I am not a fool."

  Jared leapt over the bar. He did it so swiftly and gracefully that, to Eden, it was as if he never moved, as if he dematerialized in one place and reappeared right in front of her.

  "Oh!" she managed to murmur in surprise, before he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her up against his chest. "Are you calling me a fool, Miss Parker?" His voice was soft—too soft.

  And all those awful, wonderful feelings that seemed to occur whenever he touched her were occurring again.

  Eden's last trace of reckless bravado fled. She gaped at him. "No. No, I'm not. I swear to you…"

  He breathed the next words into her upturned face. "But you know damn well this place is supposed to be mine someday. You know that it's promised to me when my old man dies, don't you?"

  Eden blinked. She was totally disoriented. First, there was the feel of him, so clos
e, his hard chest against her breasts. And then there was his claim about The Hole in the Wall, a claim that she knew had at least some validity to it. "B-but I was told you never cared about the place…"

  "By who?"

  "By Laurie. And your father. By your brothers and your sister Delilah. By everybody. They all said you would never come back to live in town and if you did, the last thing you'd want to do was run the bar. After all, you're an…" Eden gulped as the sentence trailed off unfinished.

  Talk about tactless! What she had been about to say was way out of line. It was not something any considerate person would throw in a man's face after having known him less than twenty-four hours. Somehow, Jared Jones brought out her most insensitive side.

  "I'm what?"

  "Jared, look…"

  He released her then, setting her away from him carefully—as if she were some sort of human detonating device, dangerous to touch, to be handled with extreme caution.

  He stepped back. "No. Say what you were about to say."

  "Jared—"

  "All right. I'll say it." He spoke with great precision. "I am an alcoholic. That is why I do not drink. I haven't had a drink in over fifteen years now. And I have no trouble at all being in a bar for long periods of time without taking a drink. In fact, that's exactly what I do every time I come to town. I come here, where most of the bad actors like me hang out. I drink cola. And I manage, in my own low-class way, to have a helluva time."

  "Jared, I—"

  "I'm not through talking yet."

  "O-okay."

  "So, my points, my being an alcoholic wouldn't stop me from running this place. And my old man knows it, too."

  "I see. I—"

  "And as for that other feeble excuse you just threw at me, that I don't care about this bar. Well, Miss Parker, get this. Whether I care or not doesn't matter a damn. What matters is that my father had three sons and one daughter, and he made a promise to each one of us. He promised that when he dies, his house goes to Brendan, the house our mother got from her father to Delilah, The Mercantile building next door to Patrick and this bar to me."

  Eden swallowed hard and then forced what she hoped was a coaxing smile. "B-but you'll still get half of it someday." As she said that, she silently prayed that Oggie would live a long, long time. Being partners with Jared Jones was not her idea of something to look forward to. Jared continued to scowl at her. She babbled on, "I swear, Oggie said it would be okay with you, that you'd be glad to hear he found himself some help."

  "And naturally you just took his word for it."

  Eden did feel awful. And she knew her guilt could be heard in her voice as she trotted out more justifications. "Your father said you'd understand. I guess I really wanted to believe him. And since there was no trust agreement involved, I didn't question him too much about it. And everybody really did say you wouldn't mind, that as soon as you saw what a good thing this was for Oggie, you'd go along…"

  "They all said I'd go along." He repeated her words as if testing their veracity.

  "Yes." She lifted her chin. "They did."

  Jared peered at her. She felt that he was trying to see into her mind, to ferret out whether she was telling him anything close to the truth.

  At last he said, "All right. That makes sense."

  "You believe me?" She tried not to sound as amazed as she felt.

  "I said it makes sense. And I can see you're not at fault here."

  Eden released a long sigh of relief.

  But she realized she'd sighed too soon when Jared added, "My father's the one to blame. That old coot, I'll wrap his damn fishing pole around his neck."

  Visions of poor Oggie, strangled to death by his own son, flashed through her mind. "Oh, you wouldn't. Not really."

  Jared didn't answer. Instead, he jumped over the bar again and headed out the way he'd come in.

  "Wait! He's an old man. You won't really hurt him, will you?"

  But all she got in reply was the squeak of the back door as it swung shut behind him.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  At the end of Bullfinch Lane

  , right where he thought it might be, Jared found his father's Cadillac. He pulled in beside the dusty old boat of a car. Then he got out of his pickup and started down the steep path that led to the river below.

  When he reached the river's edge he didn't have to look far. To the right of the trail, where the rocks petered out to dirt ground, a big, gnarled oak grew close to the stream. There Oggie sat, his back propped against the oak, his fishing line bobbing on the current a few yards away. The old cheat appeared to be sound asleep.

  "Dad?"

  Oggie snorted a little at the sound of his son's voice, but he didn't wake up.

  "Dad?"

  In his sleep, Oggie turned his head away from Jared and his fishing pole sank a little closer to the surface of the stream. Jared started to shake him, but then something made him hesitate.

  Jared gazed down at the top of his father's head. He couldn't help noticing that what was left of the old scoundrel's hair was all white now. The wispy strands framed a bald crown dusted with age spots. Oggie's chin drooped on his chest, the loose skin of his neck hanging wattles. His hands, folded on his slightly protruding belly, looked as wrinkled and gnarled as the aged oak he was leaning against, now Jared could see them in repose. Strange, for all of Jared's life, his father's hands had always seemed so swift and sure. No one could mix a drink with the style and grace of Oggie Jones…

  "What the hell you gawkin' at, boy?" Oggie turned his head and winked at him. His face was a road map of a long, hard-lived life.

  Jared shook himself. He'd almost started to feel sorry for his father. And the last thing a swindler deserved was sympathy.

  "You old bastard," Jared accused. "You were awake the whole time."

  Oggie chortled. "Ah son, it's good to see your ugly mug. Whoa. That's quite a shiner you got there."

  Jared didn't want to talk about the black eye Eden had given him. "I ran into a door."

  "Yeah. Right. Where you been keepin' yourself, anyway?" Oggie patted the ground beside him.

  But Jared wasn't about to sit down. He wanted the truth. "Why'd you screw me over, Dad?"

  "Screw you over?" Oggie yanked his line out of the water and set his pole on the ground. He sat up straighter and assumed an expression of outraged dignity. "Who says I screwed you over? You give it to me straight. I'll beat the livin' daylights out of whoever thought he could—"

  "Cut the malarkey, Dad. You took on a partner over at The Hole in the Wall. I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it. You also pushed Heather into renting out my place."

  "Now you listen here, Jared Jones, you're the one who told Heather to find a tenant and—"

  "She wouldn't have done it without you pushing her into it. She would have waited to talk to me."

  "Yeah. Sure. And when exactly would that have been? We never know when the hell you'll show up anymore. If we waited to do what needs doin' until after consultin' you, nothin'd get done around here, and that's a plain fact."

  "You always promised that bar to me, old man."

  "And you'll still get half of it."

  Jared snorted. "Half. Thanks a lot. What you did wasn't right."

  "I did what I had to do."

  "Yeah. What you had to do. Sure. Without even a word to me. When we both know I've got rights to that place, that I've put my own good money in on that place—from the card room at the back to the plumbing to the wiring to that new pool table you just had to have last summer."

  Oggie sniffed. "Well, it's right you should put in on what will someday be yours."

  "Exactly. Mine. All mine." Jared turned from his father, looked out over the river and concentrated hard on staying calm. Right then, his hands were just itching to close around the old fraud's neck.

  Behind him, he heard Oggie haul himself, grunting, to his feet. Then he felt his father's hand on hi
s shoulder. "Okay, son I admit I acted out of line. I oughtta be gutted and skinned and hung up for quartering."

  Jared pulled away from his father's touch. "Damn you, old man. You could have at least let me know what you were planning. You didn't have to let me find it out like this."

  "Now listen to yourself, will you?" Oggie pulled a stubby cigar from his shirt pocket. He studied the cigar for a moment, then bit off the end and spit it into the river. "Just think about what you're asking here. How exactly was I to let you know? When you disappear into the woods, no one can find you for months." Oggie gestured grandly with the cigar as he pulled out a book of matches. "You're with a crew up by Tahoe, then you're over near Hayfork. The only way we know you're alive is when a check comes for Heather in the mail. I knew you'd find out when you finally showed up. It's all worked out fine." Oggie stuck the cigar in his mouth and put a match to it. Then he puffed until the end of it glowed red.

  Jared stuck his hands into his pockets—to keep from picking up his father and tossing him into the river in front of them. "If you weren't my father, I'd—"

  Oggie blew a cloud of smoke and let loose with that watery cackle of his. "Settle down, boy. I always take care of my own, and you know it. You're still gonna get half of that bar. And that little gal I partnered up with has got one fine head for business. By the time I go to be with your mama, the half you get will be worth twice what the whole shebang was before Eden Parker came along. I'm gettin' old, and I'm gettin' tired. I needed a little help around that place. And then Eden showed up. It was like the answer to a prayer."

  Now that he had his cigar going, Oggie clamped it between his teeth, picked up his fishing pole and reeled in his line. Then he set about gathering up his gear, pausing only to glance at his son and explain, "You know, this year is the first year since I was knee-high to a horsefly that I've gone fishing. I never had the time before. And I'd like to try to get me a buck this deer season. Truth is, I'm headin' home right now to get down my old huntin' rifle and clean it up nice."