Loving the Heartland

by Marjorie Jones

  For two years, she had courted Helena on the circuit. She’d had the best of everything. The best horse. The best trailer. The best schools. And what had Kendra to offer her? Four kids that weren’t hers to raise and an old cattle ranch were the good parts. The rest had included complete abandonment by her ultra-conservative, Mormon parents, banishment from her entire family, including her siblings, and precisely zero prospects of making it in politics as an out lesbian in the state of Utah. No wonder Helena had turned her down, flat. She’d had bigger dreams.

  Just like Michelle.

  “Hey, Kennie!” Brent called as he jogged across the portable dance floor that covered most of the corral.

  Kendra stiffened her spine and forced a smile. “What’s up?”

  Brent shot a glance at Mac before jerking his head toward the barn. “I think you need to see something real quick. You got a sec?”

  “Sure. Mac, if you’ll excuse me?”

  “No problem. I think I’m going to go dance with my married daughter.”

  Kendra patted Mac on the back as he moved toward Lenise. Then she followed Brent into the barn. Inside, he found Casey learning against a stall chewing on a piece of straw. His cowboy hat, donned specifically and only for the wedding at the insistence of the bride, was tilted far back on his head and made him look far younger than his twenty-two years. When Casey saw Kendra, he pushed off the stall door with one raised boot and crossed his arms. “Did you tell her?”

  A tingle rushed up Kendra’s spine. “Tell me what?”

  Brent mimicked Casey’s stance out of sheer genetics. They both looked like their dad. “We heard something from one of the hands.”

  “And?”

  Casey looked at Brent, who nodded toward him.

  “Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Casey smiled. “We have a name. Marcus Miller. Apparently, this Marcus character is the one who fired the arrows at the herd and started the stampede. It got all out of hand. They weren’t trying to stampede the herd. That was just a bonus, apparently. He also helped out during the vandalism and some of the other stuff around here.”

  Kendra’s hands formed into tight balls at her side. “Can we link this guy to Mason?”

  “Well, that’s the problem. He skipped town. Nobody has seen him in more than a month.”

  “I don’t care if he crawled under a rock on the moon. Find him.”

  Both of her brothers grinned like two little boys lost in the women’s unmentionable section of the only department store on Main Street. Brent rocked back on his heels. “We were hoping you’d say that. We hear he might be in, of all places, Las Vegas. If it’s alright with you, we’d like to duck out of this shindig early and get on the road.”

  “Go. And when you come back, I want the son-of-a-bitch singing like a church choir on Easter Sunday.”

  Casey laced his fingers together and popped all of his knuckles at once. “I think we can manage that.”

  “Take Lacey’s car. Brent’s driving,” she announced before heading back to the reception.

  Had it finally come to this? Would Kendra encourage her own brothers, the boys she’d raised to be respectful gentlemen, to beat information from someone if she thought it could save the ranch? Kennedy Bastian’s face flashed in front of her mind’s eye. The terror in his mother’s voice when she’d heard the news echoed in her ears. And it wasn’t just Ken Bastian. If this jerk was in Vegas for the past month or so, he could have just as easily been involved in whatever happened to that filmmaker.

  A new tremor raced through Kendra’s limbs. A feeling she’d not experienced once in her life. Not when her parents were killed. Not when Helena left her. Not even when she’d learned the pilot was drunk.

  Hatred.

  Yeah. She was tired of playing by the rules.

  The boys caught up with her as she reached the edge of the dance floor. Everything seemed so normal. A bride and groom. Family. Friends. Normality.

  But nothing was normal.

  “Just bring him back here,” she stated in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. “I want to look him in the eye when he spills his guts. I want to hear that bastard’s name from the horse’s mouth and then... Mason is all mine.”

  

  “Will she recover?” Kendra wanted to scream, but what good would that do? It wouldn’t change a damn thing.

  “Absolutely. She isn’t in any danger. Most of her injuries are superficial. She’s very lucky.”

  Lucky? Lacey had almost died and the doctor called it luck? Kendra rubbed the back of her neck to soothe the throbbing pain that had developed the second Mac had called her.

  Lacey was alive. There had been a terrible accident. The truck was totaled, but Lacey was alive. She had a broken arm, cuts and scrapes. But no severe head trauma. She’d been wearing her seatbelt. She was alive.

  “Thanks, doc,” Kendra whispered. “Can we go in now?”

  “Sure. Just... be prepared. She’s looked better.”

  Kendra took Michelle’s hand and thanked God she was with her. The only other time in her life when she’d been this terrified was when her parents had been killed. If she lost one of the kids, she didn’t know if she’d survive.

  The emergency room smelled of alcohol and Kendra rubbed her nose. Dimly lit, it looked sterile and unfriendly. Lacey lay on the bed. A splint held her arm out at an awkward angle. The surgeon was on his way to set the bones in the operating room, but that was only the beginning of the process. Broken in three places, it would be days before the swelling would go down enough to put on a cast. Her fingertips, stained with blood, were tipped with broken fingernails and twitched when she moaned.

  And her face...

  Kendra winced, but only because Lacey’s eyes were closed. Lacey’s face was covered with bandages down the left side, but they did little to hide the blood. It seeped through the gauze and fed her fury.

  “Oh, Lacey,” Michelle gasped as she rushed to the side of the raised bed and took Lacey’s good hand in hers. “How do you feel, honey? Can you hear me?”

  “Hurts,” she responded, her voice muffled and the words slurred from the swelling and the bandages and the pain killers.

  Michelle closed her eyes, whispering what could only be a prayer to herself.

  Lacey wrenched her hand from Michelle’s grasp and traced the bandages on her face. A tear slid from her exposed eye and what was visible of her face twisted into something unnatural. Filled with pain.

  “No, Lacey. Don’t touch it,” Michelle admonished.

  Lacey sobbed. Her lips moved as though she tried to form words, but no words came. Only the wailing of a woman who would never see the same face in the mirror again. For as long as she lived, she would never again recognize her own reflection.

  “Lacey,” Kendra whispered. “What happened, baby-girl?”

  Lacey sniffed, obviously trying to regain some measure of control. “I don’t... I don’t know. I remember trying to pass a coal truck out from the mine, but there was a truck – an SUV – that wouldn’t stop pacing me. Every time I tried to speed up and go around the truck, they’d speed up and take over the passing lane. But they never passed me. They just kept right beside me. And then, after the truck got up to speed, they wouldn’t let me around them at all. They slowed me down, and then finally let me get through. I figured they were drunk or falling asleep or something, so I tried to leave them behind.”

  “Did you get a good look at their faces? I mean, if Mac can track down the SUV, could you identify them?”

  “I don’t know... maybe. One of them was real ugly, with hardly any teeth. He was in the passenger seat, so I saw him pretty good... oh, God. I just remembered, he was like... smiling at me. Like he was having fun, you know? That’s how I noticed his teeth.”

  Kendra and Michelle exchanged a curious glance, but neither of them said anything aloud. Was Michelle thinking the same thing?

  “The other guy was bigger. I didn’t see
him very well at all. He was wearing a red hat; a baseball cap. Dirty and bent, like he’d been breaking it in forever. He seemed huge compared to the other guy. He had longer hair, too. Kinda shaggy curling under the hat.”

  “Oh, my God... Kendra?” Michelle breathed, glancing at Kendra again. “You don’t think... I mean, it couldn’t have been the same guys. Could it?”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” Kendra’s hands formed fists at her sides.

  “What guys? What are you talking about.” Lacey’s voice hitched as though something horribly frightening had just crept into the room with them.

  “Nothing, baby. Just that we had a run in with a couple of guys just like that a couple of months ago up in the Red Narrows. Michelle had to run them off with a shotgun before they beat me to death.”

  “This wasn’t an accident, Kendra. They...” she gasped as if she were in pain for a moment and then began to hyperventilate.

  “What is it, Lace?” Michelle held her hand again, looking back at Kendra as if she knew what to do.

  A nurse appeared with a syringe which she placed into one of the many intravenous tubes in Lacey’s arm. Michelle made room for the nurse to work as she injected something into the tube.

  “They hit the truck. In the tailgate. They hit me on purpose, Kendra. You know, like those pit maneuver things on TV? They made me wreck on purpose!” She forced her hand away from Michelle’s grip a second time and placed it gently on the bandage over her cheek. “They did this to me...”

  She sobbed, her entire body trembling, and then she fell silent. Her breathing evened a little and she slept.

  The nurse removed the syringe. “It’s just a painkiller, but a pretty strong one. Does she abuse any type of drugs?”

  “Of course not. Why would you even ask such a thing?” Michelle’s voice was firm and she sounded truly offended.

  “You’d be surprised these days, hon. I don’t mean any disrespect, but we have to ask. It makes a difference in what kinds of drugs we can use for her, and her tolerance levels play a part in how effective they are. If she hasn’t built up a tolerance, this dose should let her sleep for a few hours. By the time she wakes up, she’ll be all finished with surgery and snug as a bug in her room.”

  Kendra’s rage had taken on a new and brilliant color of hate while her sister had been explaining what happened. Her fingers itched to squeeze Harold Mason’s neck beneath them. She stormed from the curtained cubicle.

  How had she allowed this to happen? At what point should she call herself a first class coward? One, possibly two, dead men. Her own sister maimed and nearly killed. This went far beyond some revenge scheme to take the ranch away from her family.

  Mason was insane. He had to be.

  No, not insane.

  Just evil.

  The sharp click of heels on the hard linoleum tiles behind her almost made her stop and turn. Almost.

  Michelle’s stern voice barely penetrated the angry storm raging in Kendra’s head. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “Stay with Lacey. I’ll come back to get you later.”

  She pulled on Kendra’s arm, but she shrugged her off. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”

  Kendra continued her forced march out of the emergency room. “You don’t want to know where I’m going.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kendra found Mason at the Randall County Country Club more than an hour later. An hour filled with fury and disgust. Fury fed by the fact that soon she’d level the playing field. Disgust that it had taken her so long to do it.

  The old Jeep’s brakes locked up when Kendra stomped on the pedal. She threw the gear shift into first and allowed the engine to stall. Then she threw herself over the door and made her way through the crowded parking lot.

  Shiny new cars reflected the moonlight like thousands of earthbound stars. Sitting like a beacon in the stall closest to the huge, carved double doors of the club, a custom luxury truck winked at her.

  Mason’s truck.

  Somewhere inside the sprawling property, Mason laughed and stirred his vodka on the rocks with his pickled finger.

  Lacey was scarred for life, languishing in a hospital bed, and Harold Mason was having cocktails.

  Just like his father.

  Kendra shoved open the doors. Each one slammed into the wall before it ricocheted back in her direction. By the time they closed, she’d made her way half-way through the lobby.

  “Excuse me!” An older man with silver hair rushed toward her. “You cannot simply barge in here. You have to be a member.”

  Kendra almost laughed. Maybe she should. She was half-crazy already. Perhaps a little maniacal laughter would convince Jeeves, here, that she meant business. Instead, she shook her head and moved past him.

  The man dashed in front of her and barred a narrow doorway. “I’m sorry, sir. But I really must see your membership card.”

  Through gritted teeth, she answered, “I’m not a member. But you already know that.”

  The man’s face paled, and Kendra had to hand it to him... He didn’t back down. “As I suspected. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “Pardon? Sir, I mean, ma’am, this is really most impertinent and inappropriate.”

  Kendra shook her head again. “Did they import you or something? Who talks like that?”

  “Well, I never—”

  “Don’t sweat it, Pops. I won’t be long.”

  Again, she moved toward the door. Once more, the irritating guard dog got in the way.

  Enough games. “Listen to me very carefully. I’m going through that door. You can get out of the way, or you can go through those windows over there. I truly don’t care which one of those options you choose, but getting out of my way will save me a boat load of time.”

  A muscle twitched in the man’s temple. A few slow seconds ticked by. In what Kendra figured was the best decision of the man’s life, he stepped aside. Under normal circumstances, she probably didn’t have the physical strength to carry out her threat, but in her current state, anything was possible. She tipped her hat as she passed and said, “Much obliged.”

  In her entire life, all of it spent in the same house, in the same town, she’d never once set foot inside the country club. And she hadn’t missed out on a damn thing. Canned chamber music and the soft clink of silverware on china met her at the arched entrance of the dining room. It only took a moment for her to find Mason among the seventy-or-so diners.

  Seated beside a good-looking brunette next to a huge plate-glass window, Mason looked like he was holding court. Like Arthur at the round table, Mason addressed several members of the local government; his knights in shining suits. He leaned back in his chair and grinned while the others laughed and toasted one another.

  Kendra took a deep breath and strode through the maze of tables. She recognized a few patrons and when they looked at her, she smiled in return. Mrs. Wicks reached out with one hand as if to stop her. She skirted her outstretched arm. “In a moment, Mrs. Wicks. I’m afraid I’m a bit late for a meeting.”

  When she reached Mason’s table, she considered throwing him out the window.

  Kendra may have never been inside the club before, but she’d seen it from the highway her entire life. These windows, floor to ceiling monstrosities, overlooked the golf course. Because of the surrounding hills and cliffs, the building had been placed on a small outcropping. Kendra smiled. Those windows sat an easy three, maybe four, stories above the first tee.

  Suddenly realizing that his normally rapt audience was staring at something other than him, Mason turned. The color in his face drained. His eyes grew into saucers for a barely perceptible moment. Kendra realized suddenly why he seemed so... surprised? Shocked? At least for a few seconds before anger shuttered the weaker emotion.

  Lacey had been driving Kendra’s truck. Nearly killing Lacey had been a complete accident; a mistake. Mason had been trying
to kill her, not her sister.

  As quickly as Mason’s shock had been replaced with anger, an artificial calm surrounded him.

  “Well... Kendra Williams. What brings you out here?” The mayor smiled and offered his hand.

  Kendra ignored the gesture. The others probably considered the silence awkward. After a moment, the mayor dropped his hand and glanced at his companions.

  Mason smiled the same greasy, I-can-get-away-with-murder-grin that he always wore and set down his drink. “Miss Williams. I do believe you’re in violation of your very own restraining order.”

  Then he laughed. Loud and full of the same smug belligerence that always enveloped him.

  Kendra’s right fist connected with Mason’s jaw. His chair tilted backwards and he landed on his back.

  It seemed as if the entire room disappeared. The only thing Kendra could see was Lacey’s face. Bruised and bloodied; the salt of her tears making it worse, stinging the huge gash on her cheek.

  Kendra dove and landed at least three more punches before she found herself held by the arms about ten feet away from a bloodied Harold Mason.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he snarled. Mason climbed to his feet with the aid of the mayor and a city councilman. “I swear to you, I’ll see to it that you pay dearly.”

  “No, Mason. I’m done paying. It’s your turn. You stay away from my family, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

  Mason looked past Kendra’s shoulder and smiled as he wiped the blood from his lips with a white, linen napkin. “Sheriff, I believe you have just witnessed this woman threatening my life.”

  

  “Here you go, Ms. Loving.” The young-looking Sheriff’s deputy handed Michelle her platinum credit card. It was the same deputy who had spoken to her the night Kennedy Bastion died. “It’s funny, really. I mean, we get her kid brother, Casey, in here all the time, but this is the first time we’ve ever had Miss Kendra in the holding cell.”

  Michelle offered a tight-lipped smile but said nothing in reply. Funny? How wonderful that he found Kendra’s borderline nervous breakdown entertaining. She studied the silver name-plate beneath the badge on his chest. “Deputy... Whitlock? How long until she’ll be released?”