by Lisa Jackson
“Good.” Jenner’s gut twisted.
Was Cody really his son? Did it even matter?
Jenner rubbed the new growth of beard shading his jaw.
“Good? You want the kid to be yours?”
Good question. “I don’t know,” he said, but deep down he knew the truth. He wanted to claim that fair-haired piece of mischief as his own, and the thought of Beth being with any other man disgusted him.
Rex leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “I can keep digging, you know. It’s fascinating how some people appear so ordinary and normal on the surface, but underneath they’re entirely different people. I followed one woman—a schoolteacher, no less. Came from a good family, had a loving husband, two kids, even a dog. Ended up she’d been having not one affair but two for years. Just to spice up her life. The husband was the last to know.”
Jenner thought he might be sick. “This is enough,” he said, pushing himself upright and balancing on his good leg. He shoved the papers back into the envelope, folded the packet and tucked it into an inner pocket of his jacket.
“Have you talked to your brother lately?” Rex asked.
Jenner pinned the P.I. with his intense stare. The only conversation he’d had with Max was about him going to the hospital. It hadn’t ended well. “Why? What’s up?”
Rex smiled, his pudgy face stretching like kid’s clay. “That reward we offered is generating a lot of interest.”
“I’ll bet. Every two-bit con artist in the state is probably coming up with stories just to get his hands on it.”
“We’ll have to weed through the fakes. That’s not so hard, but we might just get ourselves a concrete lead or two.” He rubbed his fleshy hands together in anticipation. “Even Hammond Polk thinks we might flush out a suspect or two.”
“Sure he does—he’s up for reelection soon and doesn’t want to lose his cushy sheriff’s job.”
Nodding goodbye to the P.I., Jenner left the tiny suite of offices on the third floor. The entire conversation with Stone settled like lead in his gut. First there was the matter of the reward; Jenner was against it. The last thing his family or the Rocking M needed was a crowd of near criminals trying to find ways to get to the reward money. His mother, grandmother and Casey were alone in the ranch house every night, miles from town, with only Jonah’s old Winchester and an ancient dog for protection—not that those women usually needed any.
Then there was the matter with Beth. Rex Stone, because of Jenner’s request to find out the truth about Beth had just assumed Jenner wanted to prove that she was a self-serving gold digger willing to use her child to get a little fast cash from the McKee bank. But Jenner, who had once assumed the same wasn’t so certain now. She seemed to love that kid so much; it couldn’t be an act. Or could it? Or could she love the kid enough to do anything, including pawning him off on some unsuspecting cowboy, to assure the kid a secure future?
Hadn’t the old man—Stan Whatever—said that he and Beth had planned to be married? He seemed to believe it even if Beth had denied it up and down. Would she have sold herself to a man more than twice her age just to provide for her little boy? The thought of Stan and Beth together made Jenner’s blood run cold, but, if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t so much Stan or his age that got to him, it was the fact that Beth had been involved with another man. Any man. “You’re an ass, McKee,” he grumbled, and a slim woman standing next to him in the elevator glanced his way.
“Pardon me?” she asked, her perfume hanging on the air, her blond hair sweeping her shoulders.
“Sorry. Talkin’ to myself.”
She favored him with a smile that would have, at one time, ignited something within him. “I do it, too. More often than I’d like to admit.”
He shrugged and turned away. The attractive woman held no interest for him—not like she would have a few weeks ago. Not like she would have before Beth Crandall had marched into the den of the Rocking M and announced they’d had a brief, hot, one-night stand and now were the parents of a two-year-old scamp named Cody.
Could the kid really be his? He was starting to believe it. Otherwise, Beth was taking a helluva risk, including scandal, because these days it was pretty easy to prove paternity. Hell, what a mess. What a goddamned, no-easyway-out, gut-churning mess!
The elevator stopped and he maneuvered his way through a crowd who’d been waiting for the car. Most people gave him the right-of-way because of his crutches, and he didn’t know which he minded worse, the do-gooders who stepped aside and offered tentative, pitying smiles, or the hard-nosed, self-important jerks who took no heed of his... his what? Disability?
His stomach soured. Surely he wouldn’t be disabled for life. His blood congealed at the thought and he shoved it aside. Maybe Skye and Beth and his whole damned family was right. Maybe he should go back to that orthopedic snob and sign himself up for the physical therapy he’d signed himself out of.
“Here you go.” An old lady walking a dog no bigger than a rat held the door for him and he cringed inside.
He wanted to shout out that he could damned well handle the door himself, but instead he forced a cold grin and tipped his head. “Thanks.”
“No trouble. Come along, Felix,” she said with a winning seventy-year-old’s grin as she tugged on the rat’s leash. With a yip it headed into the building.
Outside, the day had turned cloudy with gusts of wind blowing down from the north. Any hint of summer seemed to have fled with the dry leaves scurrying across the street and the smell of rain in the air. Jenner climbed into his truck and glanced up at the offices of Rex Stone. The guy gave him the creeps. Stone seemed to enjoy digging into the dirt surrounding a person. But he wasn’t just interested. No his fascination stemmed from some kind of deep need to prove that other people had failings—big-time failings.
Jabbing the key into the ignition and pumping the gas pedal, Jenner glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of himself. Unshaven and weathered, squinting hard, he wasn’t a pretty sight, and not much better than Rex Stone. Hadn’t he ordered the investigation of Beth Crandall?
“Damn it all, anyway,” he muttered as he eased the truck into the uneven flow of traffic in downtown Dawson City. Shrugging his shoulders—as if he could shake the feeling of being akin to a snake like Stone—didn’t help, and the investigator’s report felt like a dead weight in his pocket. He’d never liked this slimy little P.I., but Rex was necessary it seemed to find out who was behind his father’s death.
He pushed the speed limit and chewed on his lower lip. What if this mess about the murder was true? What if someone was really after the McKees? What if they’d stop at nothing to get their revenge or whatever it was they wanted? What if Cody and Beth were in danger?
“You promised!” Cody insisted, his lower lip protruding petulantly.
“I said I’d think about it. That’s not a promise.”
“But I want horse ride!”
Beth gritted her teeth. Sometimes her boy could be so stubborn. Just like his father! The father who was definitely to blame in this case for offering to teach Cody to ride. A two-year-old! While the orthopedist was checking out his leg, Jenner McKee should have a neurosurgeon examine his head. “Look, I said we’d go out to the ranch this afternoon and I’ll take you, but it’s not time yet.”
“When?”
“In a couple of hours.”
“Now!” Cody protested. Beth decided he needed a nap. It was barely noon, but he was showing all the classic signs of being overly tired. He rubbed his eyes and stuck out his lower lip, looking more like Jenner than ever.
Jenner. Beth’s heart seemed to clench each time she thought of him. He was the reason she was sticking around. By all rights, she should be returning to Oregon City and starting to look seriously for a new job. The little bit of savings she’d put away wouldn’t last forever and she needed to get on with her life. She’d done her duty by the McKees; now it was time to start over.
Exce
pt she couldn’t. Not until things were settled with Jenner and Cody. She carried her son into the back bedroom but when he saw the playpen, he balked. “Nooo!” he wailed, sounding like a siren. “No. No. No!”
“Come on, sweetheart,” she cajoled, grateful that they were alone in the house. Her mother, bless her, had infinite patience with her headstrong grandson, but Zeke wasn’t as understanding. He’d made a couple of comments and glared at Cody enough times to let Beth know they were about to wear out their welcome.
“Nonsense,” her mother had insisted when Beth had mentioned it, but her smile hadn’t been quite as wide as usual and Beth knew that Harriet, though she protested, was feeling the strain, as well. Yep, soon it would be time to go home.
Home. And where was that? The tiny apartment overlooking the Willamette River, where the sound of traffic was steady all night long? Or here in Rimrock, where the sky seemed to stretch forever and the moutains loomed like craggy sentinels and she knew many of the townspeople on a first-name basis.
Was home Oregon City, where she was anonymous and her son would grow up without a father, without many questions being asked, where many of his friends would also have single mothers?
Or here. Where everyone would know that he was Jenner McKee’s bastard son? That his mother had been unmarried when she’d given birth? Would he grow up knowing that his mother and father had never really been in love and that his conception was just a mistake of white-hot lovemaking for a single weekend? What if Jenner married and had other children?
“Read!” Cody demanded, and Beth was grateful to turn her thoughts away from Jenner and concentrate on the worn pages of a collection of fairy tales, the same book that her mother had read to her. The pages were smudged, the cloth-bound cover ripped, crayon marks scattered throughout and corners of the most loved passages torn. She’d grown up with these fairy tales, believing her mother’s soothing voice as she’d read about castles and princesses and enchanted frogs who, with a single kiss, could be changed into the handsome, rich son of a king.
They were silly, childish stories and still they rested deep in her heart. Didn’t she, a grown woman, still believe? Wouldn’t she always?
Jenner parked his truck near the garage and glanced past the barn to the dry fields where the horses turned their noses to the wind, ears flicking, as they smelled the approach of the storm. A few anxious nickers rippled on the breeze and the younger colts, tails aloft, raced along the fence line, bucking and rearing and feeling the energy in the air.
He felt the storm approaching, too. The wind was picking up, tossing the branches of a pine tree near the garage and shifting the old weather vane on the roof of the barn. He’d always liked the excitement a thunderstorm brought with it and he anticipated the sizzle of lightning streaking across the sky, looked forward to the crack of thunder rolling over the valley.
Hired hands on horseback sorted through paddocks of cattle, separating the heifers from the young bulls. A couple of other men were amoung the hands—new cowboys he didn’t recognize. One sat atop the fence, another leaned against the barn. Both seemed vigilant, but not all that interested in working with the stock.
He felt a drip of apprehension in his spine. Something wasn’t right and it wasn’t just the approaching storm that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to raise.
In the near paddock, Dani Stewart, Skye’s younger sister, was working with Max’s daughter. The fiesty five-year-old was astride a docile gelding named Cambridge. Over the protests of his ex-wife, Colleen, Max had presented the palomino to Hillary on her fifth birthday. The stirrups were so high they looked comical, but Hillary was serious about riding. Even though she’d had a terrorizing experience during the fire, when she’d been trapped in the stables with Dani as they’d brushed Cambridge after a lesson, Hillary was persistent and claimed that she wanted to be a trick rider someday, just as Dani had once been.
Jenner climbed out of his truck, smelled the scent of ash and charred wood that still lingered after the fire, and pocketed his keys.
Dani’s voice carried on the wind. “That’s it, Hillary. Show him who’s boss.” With a quick little kick, the girl urged the horse into a trot. “Take control. There ya go.”
Again Hillary gave a nudge of her heels. Flicking his tail, the horse broke into a slow gallop much to Hillary’s delight. “Faster!” she cried, her brown curls bouncing in the brisk breeze. “Come on, faster!”
“I don’t think so.” Dani watched her small charge carefully. “Come on, slow him down. Pull back on the reins easy now. Don’t hurt him. I swear, Hillary, someday you’re going to be the best cowgirl in the county!”
Hillary giggled at the praise, then reluctantly obeyed and slowed Cambridge into a trot, then a walk.
“That’s about it,” Dani said, and Hillary’s face fell.
“One more time,” she begged. “Please.”
Dani checked her watch and shook her head. “I can’t, hon, really. I’m supposed to be at the Purcell place in fifteen minutes and it’ll take me twenty to get there. So come on, you help me with the saddle and bridle.” She looked up as Jenner hobbled to the fence. At the sight of his crutches, she winced. She, too, had nearly lost her life in the fire.
“Jeez, are you still on those?” she asked as she uncinched the saddle.
“For a while yet. Here, let me help you—”
Her gaze stopped him cold. “I can handle it,” she assured him as she swung the saddle from the horse’s back and plopped it onto the top rail of the fence. “I do this for a living, y’know.”
“So I’ve heard,” he drawled.
“Just because I’m a woman—”
“It has nothing to do with that, Dani. Okay? Give it a rest. I only wanted to help.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Well, I don’t need it, but thanks, anyway.” She yanked the blanket from Cambridge’s back and told Hillary to run into the barn and fetch a currycomb.
A pretty woman with curly red-blond hair and eyes the color of whiskey, she had a temper that was legendary. Years before, there had been rumors about her. She’d been wild. A party girl. Someone you could call for a good time. Or so the town gossip mill had insisted, though Jenner didn’t know anyone who’d actually taken her out.
Now, she was a strong woman who, in Jenner’s opinion, married the wrong man. Jeff Stewart was one year younger than Jenner and seemed to spend more than his share of time on a bar stool at the Black Anvil flirting with the single women who happened in.
Jenner knew. He’d been there himself.
Hillary returned with brush and comb and both she and Dani started working on the gelding. “That’s it;” Dani encouraged as Hillary, tongue angled out of her mouth, tried her best to groom the horse. Jenner leaned against the top rail of the fence, watching his niece wrestle with a knot in Cambridge’s tail.
“Be careful,” Dani said. “He’s even-tempered, but even the best horses have been known to kick.”
The knot gave way and Hillary dropped her brush onto the ground. “All done,” she announced.
“Good job.” Dani was still brushing the palomino’s hide. She glanced up at Jenner. “I don’t know if I ever really thanked you for—”
Jenner waved off her words. “It was nothing.”
She rolled her eyes to the darkening heavens. “Hear that, Hillary? He thinks saving our lives was nothing.”
“That’s because Uncle Jenner’s full of B.S.”
“Says who?” Jenner asked, and reached over the fence to swing the little girl into the air. She gave out a whoop of delight while he tried to ignore the shaft of pain that sliced down his leg. The screen door banged, and from the corner of his eye, Jenner watched Max stride across the parking lot. His face was stern and set, his mouth an angry line.
“Mommy says.”
It figured. These days Colleen Smith didn’t have anything good to day about the McKee family. “Well, tell your mommy that I think—”
“Don’t say anything,”
Max warned his brother as he approached. He winked at his daughter. “When you go back to Mommy’s, you tell her that you had a nice time and that you were safe, okay?” Max shot his brother a look that warned him not to argue.
Jenner wasn’t having any of it. He gave Hillary a hug. “You tell your mom that you’re a brave girl and that you can handle a horse as good as the best of ’em. And you tell her Uncle Jenner said so.”
“I will,” Hillary pronounced with a mischievous grin cast in her father’s direction.
Jenner couldn’t let it go. “And let her know she’s right. I am full of B.S.”
“He means hot air,” Max said quickly, “but since you’re relaying messages, Hillary, tell Mommy that Uncle Jenner’s a troublemaker who doesn’t know when to keep his big mouth shut... No, on second thought, just tell her you had a great time while you were here at the ranch. She doesn’t need to know all the details.” Max lifted Hillary from his brother’s arms and squeezed her in a gentle hug. “So, how’d the lesson go?”
“Great. Hillary’s a natural,” Dani said as she unbuckled the bridle, and Cambridge, glad to be rid of the straps of leather, snorted, tossed his head, and took off, bucking and running to the far side of the corral. Hanging the bridle on a fence post, Dani sighed. “I guess he’s glad the lesson’s over.”
“How about you?” Max asked.
“Me? Naw. I could do this all day.” Dani climbed over the fence, dusted her hands on her jeans, and pulled a set of keys from her pocket. “I’ll be back next week.” She managed a smile for her enthusiastic student. “Practice if you can and when you’re done, you put Cambridge away. Make sure that he’s taken care of. Cooled off and brushed. Don’t let your dad do it for you.” With a wave she climbed into her dusty Bronco.
As Dani drove off, Max set Hillary on the ground and rumpled her wild curls. “Why don’t you see if you can wangle a piece of Kiki’s pie from her?”
“She made pie?”
“Apple and blackberry.”
“I want both.”
