by Sheryl Lynn
Jodi smiled at him and Walt, and went straight to the refrigerator. “Mommy’s not home from the store yet.” She pulled two carrots from the fridge. “I didn’t see the farrier’s truck. Has he been here?”
“I’m sorry,” Lillian said. “He had engine trouble. He can’t make it until tomorrow.”
“Poor Rocky! He’s all alone in the barn.” She explained to Ric and Walt, “My horse threw a shoe, but he has to have corrective shoes, so Mr. Jordan has to do it. Rocky’s real sad about being penned up. Want to see him, Mr. Ric? He’s champion material, right, Grandma?”
Ric’s entire body tingled at the opportunity. He would have accepted her offer if she wanted to show him a mud puddle. “I’d love to see your horse.”
“Mr. Ric is here on business.”
“You and I can handle it, Miz Lillian,” Walt said. “He’s just my gofer anyway.”
“What’s a gofer?” Jodi asked.
“I go for more wood, go for nails, go for coffee,” Ric said.
Jodi giggled as if the joke weren’t older than the Rocky Mountains.
Ric exchanged a look with his uncle. They hadn’t talked about Jodi’s paternity, but it was there between them. Walt nodded ever so slightly. Ric followed the child outdoors.
“School is almost over, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Another week. I’m gonna be a seventh grader next year. I’m kind of nervous ’cause some of those eighth graders are real big and mean. I’m gonna miss Miss Darby, too. She’s the best teacher I ever had in my whole life.” She jumped over a puddle, her braids flying.
Ric guessed that she was as tall or maybe taller than her mother. Not that it was much of a stretch. Elaine was barely five feet two.
Paddocks with white painted fencing corralled quarter horses enjoying the greenery that had sprung up after the last snow. Far in the distance, fat red-and-white cattle grazed the rolling hills. A good place for a kid to grow up.
“Course, I can see Miss Darby when I want to. Her and Mommy are good friends. But I like her best as a teacher. She never yells at kids. Some teachers do, you know.” The barn door stood open, and she walked inside.
He followed her down the aisle between stalls. All were empty save one which held a buckskin quarter horse gelding with a neat, pretty head and expressive eyes. Jodi rattled off his pedigree. She assured Ric that she and Rocky would take some ribbons at the county fair and in the rodeo, too, where they’d compete in barrel racing. Ric stroked the horse’s face. Rocky contentedly munched the carrots.
“I’ve been thinking about getting a horse,” Ric said. He hadn’t actually, but now that he said it, the idea held appeal. It also gave him and Jodi something to talk about.
She gave him a once-over. “You know how to ride?”
“I used to work Papa Tom’s cattle with your dad. My riding and roping skills are rusty, but they’ll come back. It’ll have to be a very special horse, though.”
“How come?”
“I have a bad back. So it’ll have to be soft-footed and easygoing.”
“Maybe you ought to get one of those fancy five-gaited horses. Do you know Mr. Gorshen? He’s got a pair of foxtrotters. Says a baby could ride them without falling off.”
“I don’t think I want to pay that much. You seem to know quite a bit about horses. Maybe you can attend some stock auctions with me.”
“Daddy called me a natural,” she said, her boyish chest puffing with pride. “Said my eye’s as good as Grandma’s. And she knows more about horses than anybody in the whole world.” She climbed on the slatted stall door and planted a noisy kiss on Rocky’s nose. The horse snorted, blasting them both with grassy breath. Jodi stood straight on the stall door, looking Ric in the eyes. “You’re real tall.”
“I work on it. A little bird told me your birthday is coming up.”
She laughed, a silvery sound that caused the gelding’s ears to prick forward. “I’m gonna have a slumber party. I’ll be twelve. That’s almost grown-up.”
“Jodi?”
The girl jumped off the stall door. “In here, Mommy!”
A frisson of pure anticipation rippled down Ric’s spine. Such eagerness annoyed the devil out of him. By refusing to return his calls and acting barely civil whenever they happened to meet, Elaine had made it clear she wasn’t interested in being friends. Fine by him. He didn’t need her anymore than she needed him. Still, his heart lurched whenever he saw her.
“I’ve got groceries to unload. You have homework and chores.” Elaine took a few steps into the barn, then stopped, staring at Ric.
Ric pulled off his hat and combed his hair with his fingers. He ran a finger around his shirt collar. “Good afternoon,” he said.
She looked a lot better than the last time he’d actually talked to her. Her cheeks had lost the hollow look and her step had a bounce. She caught her daughter in a one-armed hug. Jodi was at least an inch taller than her mother.
“What are you two up to?” Elaine asked.
“Mr. Ric’s going to buy a horse. He asked me to help him find a good one. He’s got a bad back, so we have to find a horse with a real easy gait.”
“Is that so?”
“Seems a shame,” Ric said, “to have property without a horse mowing the lawn.”
Jodi laughed. “We can go to stock auctions, Mommy. I can help him find the perfect horse.”
“I’m sure you can. Right now, you have things to do. I’m sure Ric does as well. Go get those groceries out of the car.”
“Did you remember the cupcake papers?”
“Yes, I remembered. And the sprinkles and the food coloring. So scoot!” To Ric she explained, “End of the year party at school. The social event of the season.”
He ruffled Jodi’s hair. “Good seeing you again, kiddo. We’ll talk horses later.”
“Okay.” After a final pat on Rocky’s nose, she skipped out of the barn.
“Great kid,” he said. He meant it, but it was oddly discomfiting to admit. If he’d married Elaine and raised Jodi, she’d have grown up as a transient. She’d have been stuck in base housing on army posts, growing up nearly fatherless, while Ric deployed on assignments that took him far from home for nine months a year. An army brat without roots and fleeting friendships and a new school to attend every year or so. Bobby might have betrayed Ric, but he’d done Jodi a good turn.
She reached over the stall door to pet Rocky. “I heard about you buying land.”
Her voice held a dangerous note, one he couldn’t quite put a finger on, but it alerted him anyway. “Ten acres.”
“Funny. I thought you didn’t like McClintock.”
“Changed my mind.”
“Must have. From what I hear, you looked at just about every property for sale in the valley. You’re also very interested in the business end of real estate.”
He’d been careful in the questions he’d asked and in how he engaged Del’s former employees and partner in conversations. Not careful enough, apparently. “It is interesting. I never knew there were so many ways to finance a sale. How much paperwork is involved.”
She made a musing noise. “I’ve also heard you and Deputy Tate Raleigh are best buddies now. Tight as ticks.” Her smile faded and those big brown eyes turned hard. “What are you up to, Ric? Why are you looking for dirt on my father?”
Couldn’t get any more blunt than that. “What makes you think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Oh, come on! You never liked Daddy. Plus, it’s no secret how close you are to the Greenes. Tom has been turning over every rock in this valley looking for some way to prove Bobby was murdered.” She stabbed a stiff finger in the direction of his chest. “Now I find you with my daughter. Just what exactly did you say to her? What are you trying to pull?”
Our daughter, he wanted to say. If he did, and she denied it, then what? She might cut him off cold from all contact with the girl. He could demand a DNA test, go to court, maybe win partial custody or at least visitation rights. T
hen mean-spirited kids could teach Jodi what the word bastard meant. She’d be the brunt of catcalls, nasty jokes and bullying. Tom and Gwen Greene would lose their only grandchild.
He wanted to know his child. He wanted, if not to be her father, to at least be her friend. He could tell by the way Jodi latched onto him that she needed a man in her life. Putting Elaine on the defensive was not the way to go about it.
Having her mad at him wasn’t productive either.
“I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “I don’t believe the shooting was accidental.”
She folded her arms and lifted her chin. Now she was definitely angry.
Ric sighed. “Bobby was my best friend since kindergarten. I hate what happened to him. I really hate that King didn’t investigate the shooting. There are a lot of unanswered questions. Bobby deserves better.”
“Daddy was not a criminal. And Uncle King did so investigate.”
He’d heard complaints about Del’s bordering on ruthless business practices, but not a hint about anything underhanded. “I agree Del wasn’t a criminal.”
That gave her a start. She backed a step, eyeing him sideways. “I don’t appreciate your snooping.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.” He wanted to touch her hair and trace a finger over the curve of her cheek. He jammed his hands in his pockets. “That’s the last thing in the world I want. But can you blame me for needing to know what really happened? Don’t you want to know? Aren’t you curious?”
She scuffed the layer of sawdust on the floor. “It was an accident. Nothing more. I wish everyone would just accept it.”
He couldn’t resist the poignant plea. “I wasn’t pumping Jodi for information, if that’s what worries you. I would never do that.”
She searched his face.
“We were talking about horses. I’d really like to take her with me to a stock auction.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
He struggled with impatience. He was the wounded party, not her. He didn’t appreciate her acting as if he were up to no good. “Hey, you don’t want me ending up with a mule or a camel or something. You can come along, too. I remember how much you love auctions.” He chuckled. “I happen to know there’s a real competitive streak under that dainty exterior.”
She covered her mouth as if hiding a smile. “I am not competitive.”
“Huh. Let me see. Who was it insisting on competing in the barrel races after she sprained her ankle?”
“I refuse to discuss this, Cedric Buchanan.”
He tapped his chin. “And there were about two hundred jars of pickled peppers you made before you had an entry good enough for the county fair.”
“Stop.”
“Who said,” his voice rose in a warbling falsetto, “Walt Buchanan does not make better biscuits than I do, and I’ll prove it!”
She laughed and flung up her hands. “All right! You win.”
Better a tiny victory than none at all. “Then come to the auction with me. I need expert help.”
“I’ll consider it.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I have things to do. I’m sure you do as well.” She turned for the door.
Ric fell into step beside her. It would be so easy to slip an arm around her shoulders. Smell her hair and see if her sweet scent still drove him wild with desire. Only an idiot would try it.
She headed toward home, a dollhouse version of the big ranch manor. Filled with longing, he watched the gentle sway of her hips and the way her sable hair caught sunlight.
At one point in his life, he’d tried his best to hate her. Then he’d tried to forget her. He’d failed miserably at both endeavors. Now he called himself twenty-seven kinds of fool for wanting so much for her to want him.
Chapter Four
The Maya Valley Cemetery covered a hill south of McClintock. Aspen groves and mountain ash lined the graveyard. Beneath a half-moon shining in the early morning sky, the trees stood like ghostly sentinels.
Ric drove his pickup truck slowly through the cemetery. He could hardly believe it was October already, a full year since he’d returned to McClintock, a full year since Bobby’s death.
He had plans to come out this afternoon with Tom and Gwen, to visit on this sad anniversary. He wanted some time alone with his friend. The McClintock family mausoleum dominated the highest hill. Made of Colorado marble in a Grecian temple design, it glowed by moonlight. Marble monuments marked other family plots, some dating back to the 1880s.
Recollecting old ghost stories that used to circulate among the kids, and probably still did, made him smile. One story claimed this was once a sacred burial ground for Ute Indians. On full-moon nights, Ute warriors who’d died in battle and maidens who’d killed themselves because of lost loves could, supposedly, be seen dancing among the graves.
A creepy-crawly sensation tickled his back and arms. He heard a rustling, and his gut lurched. He chuckled at his own foolishness. Elk and mule deer found the grassy grounds irresistible, and this was the time of day for them to be out in force.
He carried a wreath he’d woven from woodbine and black-eyed Susans up the hill to the Greene family plot. Stars were so bright the sky seemed alive, and the air was so cold it crackled against his face. Bobby’s grave was easy to find by moonlight. Weathering hadn’t yet stripped the shine from the brass marker.
He lowered himself to his knees. Chrysanthemums were scattered over the grave. He picked one up and pressed it to his nose. It was soft and fresh. Bony fingers tip-tapped down his spine. He tried to laugh off the rise of superstitious nervousness. Bobby had a lot of friends. Ric probably wasn’t the only one desiring private communion. He rested the wreath against the marker.
“I sure do miss you,” he said. “I wish we hadn’t fought the last time we saw each other. I feel bad about it. Especially now that I’ve seen how you’ve done right by Jodi. She’s a great kid. You were a great father.”
Moisture seeped through his jeans, chilling his knees. He struggled upright. He winced at the twinges in his back and tried not to tense up. Cold and tension often brought on spasms. He had too much work to do to be laid up right now. He shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets.
“I wish you could have seen her at the rodeo. She took first place in barrel racing. And she’s playing volleyball, too. She’s the tallest girl on the team, and she can really spike the ball.” He lifted his gaze to the stars. “I’ve been coaching her in basketball. Hate to admit it, but she’s a better player than you or I ever were.”
He frowned, washed in melancholy. “I can’t ever replace you in Jodi’s heart. I won’t even try. I promise. But I’m glad I can be here for her. She sure misses you.”
An approaching vehicle caught his attention. Headlights bounced off the trees, drawing nearer. The sky was beginning to lighten, and the stars were growing faint.
Elaine walked up the hill. Ric stood taller, eagerness rising despite the circumstances. He couldn’t help it. Every time he saw her, he turned stupid.
She wore a cowboy hat and a sheepskin coat, but looked unmistakably feminine. He’d spent the last four months working with Walt on the McClintock Ranch. He had seen her almost daily. She was warming to him, relaxing and acting friendly. Still, there was no sign she cared about him, or that she wanted to.
“Hi, Ric. I thought I recognized your truck.”
“Figured I’d beat the crowd,” he said.
“Jodi’s staying out of school today. We’re going to have a picnic later. Mama, too.” She stood beside him and looked down at the grave. “I figured I’d get all my crying done early.”
He tipped his hat. “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then.”
“You don’t have to go.” She hugged herself, shivering. “In fact, I kind of wish you’d stay. Coming up here alone made more sense at home. It’s pretty creepy in the dark.”
“Looking for Indian ghosts?” he teased.
She mock-punched his arm. “Stop that.” She dropped
to a crouch and began gathering the chrysanthemums. “You shouldn’t toss flowers. Bobby liked things tidy.”
“Those were here when I got here.”
She bunched the flowers into a neat bouquet and laid them next to his wreath. Dusting her hands, she rose. “I still listen for the sound of his pickup coming up the drive. I still reach for him in bed. I wait for the hurting to stop, but it doesn’t.” She looked up at him. “Is your mother buried here?”
Her plaintive note made him want to sigh. “She was cremated, and they sent her ashes to Walt. I don’t know what he did with them.”
“I don’t even remember what she looked like.”
He almost said, “Look at Jodi and you’ll know,” but refrained. “All my grieving happened after she left me with Walt. By the time she actually died, I’d gotten over her. Every once in a while I get a twinge. Wish things had turned out differently. Lucky for us, Bobby left us good memories. My mom never bothered with those.”
He felt ashamed of his bitterness. His mother had wanted to be a decent person. According to Walt, she’d quit drinking when she learned she was pregnant and managed sobriety for almost four years before the bottle hooked her again. Betsy Buchanan had been weak, not evil.
Elaine hooked an arm with his and leaned against him. It caught him off guard. He almost feared to breathe.
She laughed, a nervous note. “Dawn was Bobby’s favorite part of the day. He was always dragging me outside to see a colorful sunrise. I really thought it would be nice to come here at dawn, but this is too spooky. Would you walk with me up to the mausoleum?”
“Be my pleasure.”
He loved it, in fact, walking arm in arm with her, her trim body a beacon of warmth in an otherwise cold, lonely morning. The mausoleum loomed imperiously, a fitting final resting place for Del Crowder.
Ric almost felt like apologizing. Neither he nor Tate nor Tom had found one shred of evidence that Del had murdered Bobby. Whatever Bobby had stumbled across had gone with him into the grave. That didn’t mean Del wasn’t guilty, but it was easier for Ric to think, if not kindly, then without rancor about Elaine’s father.
