by Nora Roberts
Willa slid the gearshift into first. “Later,” she repeated, and drove away toward the house.
She knew very well that Tess had her eye on Nate, and she didn’t intend to encourage it. As far as she was concerned, Nate would be completely out of his depth with a slick Hollywood piranha.
And maybe he had his eye focused right back, but that was only because men always got dopey around beautiful, stacked women. Grabbing her thermos of coffee from the seat beside her, Willa climbed out of the rig. Tess was beautiful and stacked, she admitted, with just a quick twinge of envy. And confident and quick-tongued. So sure of herself and her control over her own femininity. And her power over men.
Willa wondered if she’d be more like that if she’d had a mother to teach her the ropes. If she’d been raised in a different environment, where there were females giggling over hairdos and hemlines, over lipstick shades and perfume.
Not that she wanted that, she assured herself, as she stepped inside and pulled off her gloves. She wasn’t interested in all that fussing and foolishness, but she was beginning to think those very things could add to a woman’s confidence around men.
And she wasn’t feeling as confident as she wanted to. At least not around one man.
She shucked her coat and hat, then carried the thermos with her to the office upstairs. She’d changed nothing inside it yet. It was still Jack Mercy’s domain with its trophy heads and whiskey decanters. And entering, walking over, seating herself at his desk always brought a quick twist to her gut.
Grief? she wondered. Or fear. She just wasn’t sure any longer. But the office itself brought on a swarm of unpleasant and unhappy emotions, and memories.
She had rarely come in there when he was alive. If he sent for her, ordered her to take a chair across from that desk, it was to criticize or to shuffle her duties.
She could see him perfectly, sitting where she sat now. A cigar clamped between his fingers, and if it was evening and the workday finished, a glass of whiskey on the blotter.
Girl, he’d called her. He’d rarely used her name. Girl, you fucked up good this time.
Girl, you better start pulling weight around here.
You’d better get yourself a husband, girl, and start having babies. You’re no use otherwise.
Had there ever been kindness in this room? she asked herself, and rubbed hard at her temples. She wanted badly to remember even one moment, one incident when she came in here and found him sitting behind this desk and smiling. One time, only one time when he’d told her he was proud of what she’d done. Of anything she’d done.
But she couldn’t. Smiles and kind words hadn’t been Jack Mercy’s style.
And what would he say now? she wondered. If he walked in here and saw her, if he knew what had happened on the land, to one of his men, while she’d been in charge.
You fucked up, girl.
She rested her head in her hands a moment, wishing she had an answer for that. In her mind she knew she’d done nothing to cause a vicious murder. But in her heart, the responsibility weighed heavy.
“Done and over,” she murmured. She opened a drawer, took out record books. She wanted to check them over, the careful detailing of number of head, of weight. The pasture rotations, the additives and grain. She’d make sure there was not one figure out of place before Nate came later today to look over her accounts.
Burying her resentment that he, or anyone, had power over Mercy, she got to work.
N EARLY TWO MILES FROM THE RANCH HOUSE. LILY happily snapped pictures of mule deer. It made her laugh to look at them with their shaggy winter coats and bored eyes. The prints would likely be out of focus—she knew she hadn’t inherited her mother’s skill with a camera—but they would please her.
“I’m sorry.” She let the camera dangle from the strap around her neck. “I’m taking too long. I get caught up.”
“We’ve got some time yet.” After a brief study of the clouds, Adam shifted in the saddle and turned to Tess. “You’re riding well. You learn.”
“Self-defense,” she claimed, but felt a warm spurt of pride. “I never want to hurt the way I did those first couple of days. And I need the exercise.”
“No, you’re enjoying it.”
“All right, I’m enjoying it. But if it gets much colder than this, I won’t be enjoying it till spring.”
“It’ll get colder than this. But your blood’ll be thicker. Your mind tougher.” He leaned down to stroke the neck of his mount. “And you’ll be hooked. Every day you don’t ride, you’ll feel deprived.”
“Every day I can’t stroll down Sunset Boulevard I feel deprived. I manage.”
He laughed. “When you get back to Sunset Boulevard, you’ll think of the sky here, and the hills. Then you’ll come back.”
Intrigued, she tipped down her sunglasses, peered at him over the tops. “What is this? Indian mysticism and fortunetelling?”
“Nope. Psychology one-oh-one. Can I use the camera, Lily? I’ll take a picture of you and Tess.”
“All right. You don’t mind, do you?” she asked Tess.
“I never turn away from a camera.” She walked her horse around Adam’s, turned her—rather smoothly, she thought—and came close to Lily’s right. “How’s this?”
“It’s good.” He lifted the camera, focused. “Two beautiful women in one frame.” And snapped, twice. “When you look at these, you’ll see how much you share. The shape of the face, the coloring, even the way you sit in the saddle.”
Automatically, Tess straightened her shoulders. She felt what she considered a mild affection for Lily, but she was far from ready for sisterhood. “Let’s have the camera, Adam. I’ll take the two of you. The Virginia Magnolia and the Noble Savage.”
The minute it was out of her mouth, she winced. “Sorry. I tend to think of people as characters. No offense.”
“None taken.” Adam passed her the camera. He liked her, the way she went after what she wanted, said what was on her mind. He doubted very much she’d appreciate being told those were two of his favorite qualities about Willa. “How do you think of yourself?”
“Shallow Gal. That’s why my screenplays sell. Smile.”
“I like your movies,” Lily said when Tess lowered the camera. “They’re exciting and entertaining.”
“And play to the least common denominator. Nothing wrong with that.” She handed the camera back to Lily. “You write for the masses, you take off your brain and keep it simple.”
“You’re not giving yourself or your audience enough credit.” Adam flicked his gaze toward the trees, scanned.
“Maybe not, but . . .” Tess trailed off as a movement caught her eye. “There’s something back there in the trees. Something moved.”
“Yes, I know. It’s upwind. I can’t smell it.” Casually, he laid his hand on the butt of his rifle.
“Bears are hibernating now, right?” Tess moistened her lips and tried not to think of a man and a knife. “It wouldn’t be a bear.”
“Sometimes they wake up. Why don’t you start heading home? I’ll take a look.”
“You can’t go up there alone.” Instinct made Lily reach over, grab his reins. At the abrupt movement his horse shied and kicked up snow. “You can’t. It could be anything. It could be—”
“Nothing,” he said calmly, and soothed his horse. A few innocent flakes danced into the air. He didn’t think they’d stay innocent for long. “But it’s best to see.”
“Lily’s right.” Shivering, Tess kept her eyes trained on the tree line. “And it’s starting to snow. Let’s just go. Right now.”
“I can’t do that.” Adam locked his dark, quiet eyes on Lily’s. “It’s probably nothing.” He knew better by the way his horse was beginning to quiver beneath him, but kept his voice easy. “But a man was killed barely a mile from here. I have to see. Now head back, and I’ll catch up with you. You know the way.”
“Yes, but—”
“Please, do this for me. I’ll be righ
t behind you.”
Knowing she was useless in an argument, Lily turned her horse.
“Stay together,” Adam told Tess, then rode toward the tree line.
“He’ll be all right.” Her teeth threatened to chatter as Tess made the reassurance. “Hell, Lily, it’s probably a squirrel.” Too much movement for a squirrel, she thought. “Or a moose or something. We’ll have to tease him about saving the womenfolk from a marauding moose.”
“And what if it’s not?” Lily’s quiet southern voice fractured like glass. “What if the police and everyone are wrong and whoever killed that man is still here?” She stopped her horse. “We can’t leave Adam alone.”
“He’s the one with the gun,” Tess began.
“I can’t leave him alone.” Quaking at the prospect of defying an order, Lily nonetheless turned and started back.
“Hey, don’t—oh, hell. This’ll make a dandy scene in a script,” Tess muttered, and trotted after her. “You know, if he shoots us by mistake, we’re going to be really sorry.”
Lily only shook her head and, veering off the road, started into the hills, following Adam’s tracks. “You know how to get back if you had to ride quickly?”
“Yeah, I think, but—Christ, this is insane. Let’s just—”
The gunshot split the air and echoed like thunder. Before Tess could do more than cling to her skittish horse, Lily was galloping headlong into the trees.
N ATE DIDN’T COME ALONE. BEN DROVE UP BEHIND HIM. with his sister-in-law and his niece. Shelly came into the house chattering and immediately began unwrapping the baby.
“I should have called, I know, but when Ben said he was coming by I just grabbed Abigail and jumped into the rig. We’ve been dying for company. I know you’ve got business to tend to, but Abby and I can visit with Bess while you’re talking. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t. It’s good to see you.”
It was always good to see Shelly, with her happy chatter and sunny smile. She was, Willa had always thought, perfect for Zack. They meshed like butter on popcorn, both lively and entertaining.
With the baby happily kicking on the sofa, Shelly peeled off her hat and fluffed her sunny blond hair. The short, sassy cut suited her pixie face and petite build, and her eyes were the color of fog in the mountains.
“Well, I didn’t give Ben much choice, but I swear I’ll stay out of your way until you’ve finished.”
“Don’t be silly. I haven’t been able to play with the baby in weeks. And she’s grown so. Haven’t you, sweetheart?” Indulging herself, Willa lifted Abby and hefted her high over her head. “Her eyes are turning green.”
“She’s going to have McKinnon eyes,” Shelly agreed. “You’d think she’d have the gratitude to take after me a bit, since I’m the one who carried her around for nine months, but she looks just like her pa.”
“I don’t know, I think she’s got your ears.” Willa brought Abby close to kiss the tip of her nose.
“Do you?” Shelly perked up immediately. “You know she’s sleeping right through the night already. Only five months old. After all the horror stories I heard about teething and walking the floor, I figured I’d—” She held up both hands as if to signal herself to stop. “There I go, and I promised I’d stay out of the way. Zack says I could talk the bark off a tree.”
“Zack’ll talk you blind,” Ben put in. “Surprises me that with the two of you as parents, Abby didn’t pop out talking.” He reached out to tweak the baby’s cheek and grinned at Willa. “She’s a pretty handful, isn’t she?”
“And sweet-natured, which proves she isn’t all McKinnon.” With some regret, Willa passed the cooing baby back to her mother. “Bess is back in the kitchen, Shelly. I know she’d love to see you and Abby.”
“I hope you have time for a little visit when you’re done, Will.” Shelly laid a hand on Willa’s arm. “Sarah wanted to come by, too, but she couldn’t get away. We’ve been thinking about you.”
“I’ll be down soon. Maybe you can talk Bess into parting with some of the pie she’s been making for supper. Everything’s up in the office,” she added to the others, and started upstairs.
“You understand this is just for form’s sake, Will,” Nate began. “Just so there’s no question about adhering to the terms of the will.”
“Yeah, no problem.” But her back was stiff as she led the way into the office.
“Didn’t see your sisters around.”
“They’re out riding with Adam,” Willa told him, moving behind the desk. “I don’t imagine they’ll be out too much longer. Hollywood’s blood’s too thin for her to handle the cold for more than an hour or so.”
Nate sat, stretched out his legs. “So, I see you two are still getting along beautifully.”
“We stay out of each other’s way.” She handed him a record book. “It works well enough.”
“It’s going to be a long winter.” Ben eased a hip onto the edge of the desk. “You two ought to think about making peace, or just shooting each other to get it done.”
“The second part doesn’t seem quite fair. She wouldn’t know the difference between a Winchester and a posthole digger.”
“I’ll have to teach her,” was Nate’s comment as he scanned figures. “Things all right around here otherwise?”
“Well enough.” Unable to sit, Will pushed away from the desk. “From what I can tell, the men are convinced that whoever killed Pickles is long gone. The police haven’t been able to prove any different. No signs, no weapon, no motive.”
“Is that what you think?” Ben asked her.
She met his eyes. “That’s what I want to think. And that’s what I’ll have to think. It’s been three weeks.”
“That doesn’t mean you should let your guard down,” Ben murmured, and she inclined her head.
“I’ve no intention of letting my guard down. In any area.”
“Everything here looks in perfect order to me.” Nate passed the record book to Ben. “All things considered, you’ve had a good year.”
“I expect the next will be even better.” She paused. She didn’t clear her throat, but she wanted to. “I’m going to be sowing natural grasses come spring. That was something Pa and I disagreed on, but I figure there’s a reason for what grows native to this area, so we’re going back to it.”
Intrigued, Ben flicked a glance at her. He’d never known her to talk about change when it came to Mercy. “We did that at Three Rocks more than five years ago, with good results.”
She looked at Ben again. “I know it. And once we’re reseeding, we’ll be rotating more often. No more than three weeks per pasture.” Pacing now, she didn’t notice that Ben set the book aside to study her. “I’m not as concerned as Pa was with producing the biggest cattle. Just the best. Past few years we’ve had a lot of trouble at birthing time with oversized calves. It might change the profit ratio at first, but I’m thinking long term.”
She opened the thermos she’d left on the desk and poured coffee, though it was no more than lukewarm by now. “I’ve talked to Wood about the cropland. He’s had some ideas about it that Pa wasn’t keen on. But I think it’s worth some experimenting. We’ve got a little more than six hundred acres cultivated for small grains, and I’m going to give Wood control of them. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t, but Mercy can carry some experimentation for a year or two. He wants to build a silo. We’ll ferment our own alfalfa.”
She shrugged. She knew what some would say about the changes, and her interest in crops and silos and her other plans to ask Adam to increase the string of horses: She was forgetting the cattle, forgetting that Mercy had been pure for generations.
But she wasn’t forgetting anything. She was looking ahead.
She set her cup down. “Do either of you, in your supervisory capacity, have a problem with my plans?”
“Can’t say that I do.” Nate rose. “But then, I’m not a cattleman. I think I’ll go on down and see if there’s pie, leave
you two to discuss this.”
“Well?” Willa demanded when she faced Ben alone.
“Well,” he echoed, and picked up her cup. “Damn, Will, that’s cold.” He winced as he swallowed it down. “And stale.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion on the coffee.”
He stayed where he was, sitting on the edge of the desk, and leveled his eyes to hers. “Where’d all these ideas come from?”
“I’ve got a brain, don’t I? And an opinion.”
“True enough. I’ve never heard you talk about changing so much as a blade of grass around here. It’s curious.”
“There wasn’t any point talking about it. He wasn’t interested in what I thought or had to say. I’ve done some studying up,” she added, and stuck her hands in her pockets. “Maybe I didn’t go to college like you, but I’m not stupid.”
“I never thought you were. And I never knew you wanted to go to college.”
“It doesn’t matter.” With a sigh, she walked to the window and stared out. Storm’s coming, she thought. Those first pretty flecks of white were only the beginning. “What matters is now, and tomorrow and next year. Winter’s planning time. Figuring-things-out time. I’m starting to plan, that’s all.” She went stiff when his hands came down on her shoulders.
“Easy. I’m not going to jump you.” He turned her to face him. “If it matters, I think you’re on the mark.”
It did matter, and that was a surprise in itself. “I hope you’re right. I’ve been getting calls from the vultures.”
He smiled a little. “Developers?”
“Bastards jumped right in. They’d give me the moon and the sun to sell the land so they can break it up, make a fancy resort or fucking vanity ranches for Hollywood cowboys.” If she’d had fangs, they would have been gleaming. “They’ll never get their fat fingers on a single acre of Mercy land while I’m standing on it.”
Automatically he began to knead her shoulders. “Sent them off scalded, did you, darling?”
“One called just last week. Told me to just call him Arnie. I told him I’d see him skinned and staked out for the coyotes if he set a foot on my property.” The corner of her lip quirked. “I don’t think he’ll be coming by.”