The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories

by Juliette Harper

Kate smothered a grin. "Good. Second, did you get the number of the ear tag on that cow?"

  "162."

  "Did you do anything about the fence being down?"

  "Yeah, Mr. Aw Shucks Ma’am Are You Hurt helped me pull the net back and wire it in place. It'll hold for now."

  "Okay. You did great, Jenny. You remembered everything. And we did steal that land."

  "What?!"

  Kate laughed in spite of herself. "In that our grandfather got his grandfather drunk and took Baxter's Draw off him in a poker game, we did take their ranch."

  "Oh for God's sake," Jenny said, still annoyed. "How is it our fault his grandfather couldn't hold his whiskey?"

  "Now who sounds like Daddy?" Mandy said from the door of the kitchen.

  "Well," Kate said, cocking an eyebrow at her baby sister, "I hope we didn't wake you up."

  Mandy yawned. "Well, you did. What time is it anyway?"

  "Noon."

  Mandy grinned sheepishly. "It was a long drive from Houston."

  Both of her sisters fixed her with identically skeptical looks. "Do you want breakfast or lunch?" Kate asked.

  "I guess it's too much to hope Daddy had an espresso machine?"

  The question won her the same set of arched eyebrows again. "Okay, then, uh, coffee please?"

  Kate went about brewing a fresh pot while her sisters sat down at the kitchen table. "How are we getting to the funeral?" Mandy asked.

  "Why don't we take the SUV?" Jenny suggested. "There's plenty of room and you know the women at the church are going to send a mountain of food home with us."

  "Good idea," Kate said. "I used you two having to travel so far as an excuse to get us out of the coffee thing beforehand."

  "Thank God," Jenny said. "So what time are we leaving?"

  "About 4 o'clock, and we do have to go to the supper afterwards. The old bats would have dropped of apoplexy if I hadn't agreed to that."

  "I like West Texas funeral food," Mandy said brightly. "I haven't had a good Jello salad in ages."

  "Baby Sister," Kate said, "you are the only person I know who could say that and mean it. So, here's the deal. The preacher is going to do the usual . . ."

  "Fought the good fight," Jenny said.

  "Through the valley of the shadow of death," Mandy chimed in.

  "Into the house not made with hands," Kate finished. "You got it. Standard burying sermon. And, uh, well, I'm supposed to say . . . something . . . if that's okay with the two of you."

  Jenny and Mandy exchanged quick glances. After a minute or two passed, Mandy said tentatively, "That's going to be awfully hard for you, Katie. Are you sure?"

  "Yeah. I'm sure. Unless either one of you want to do it."

  "No," Jenny said quietly. "It should be you. What are you planning to say?"

  Kate turned to reach for the coffee cups and stopped with her back to her sisters. "I guess the truth probably isn't a great idea, huh?"

  "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free," Mandy said quietly.

  No one said anything, but they all thought the same thing. There was no being free of Langston Lockwood.

  Jenny maneuvered the SUV into place at the front of the Methodist Church under the careful direction of Harold Insall, the local mortician. Under her breath she said, "He was wearing that same suit the last time I saw him."

  "I think he orders them in lots of a dozen," Kate said, through the fake smile she flashed the undertaker who tapped somberly on her window.

  Rolling the glass down she said, "Afternoon Harold."

  "Good afternoon, Katherine," he said in mournful tones. "Would you and your sisters like to wait until everyone is seated to go into the church or shall I escort you now?"

  "I think we can walk in like normal folks, Harold."

  An expression of horror crossed the man's face. "But . . . but . . . you should be properly ushered down the aisle and seated in the front."

  "How about we just find the front pew on our own?" Kate said, her tone clearly indicating she wasn't making a suggestion.

  "Well," he huffed, "if that's what you want, Katherine."

  "It is, Harold."

  The three women climbed out of the SUV and walked across the lawn together. Jenny's stomach lurched at the sight of the clumps of people gathered on the lawn. She had a powerful urge to turn and run. This wasn't like being at the ranch. This town wasn't her world any more.

  "Are you okay?" Kate asked, eyeing her closely.

  "Yes, I . . . I'm fine."

  As they started toward the door, a few people mumbled condolences. Kate called people by their names while Jenny and Mandy smiled and nodded. At the top of the steps, a gray-haired man in dress slacks and a blue shirt stepped forward to hold the door.

  Jenny paused and stared at him. "Mr. McClain?" she asked. "Is that you, sir?"

  A smile cracked the creased face. "Hi, Jenny. I'm sorry about your Daddy, honey."

  Impulsively Jenny stepped forward and put her arms around the old man's neck. "I'm so glad to see you," she whispered in his ear, hugging him fiercely. "Do you still sell penny candy at the drugstore?"

  Sensing her fear, he returned the hug and whispered back, "You bet I do. You come on down tomorrow and you can have all you want, like when you were little. It's gonna be okay, Jenny."

  She stepped back and smiled at him, her eyes glistening. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

  "I'll even throw in a cherry Coke," he said.

  "I wasn't talking about the candy."

  "I know," he said, his eyes kind and warm. "But you can have the Coke anyway."

  With those words, the butterflies in her stomach were gone. This was still home, and she could do this. She paused with her sisters at the back of the church. Every seat in the sanctuary was taken.

  Clearly gathering her own courage, Kate said. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

  She took the lead, with Jenny behind her and Mandy trailing at the back. About halfway toward the front of the church, Mandy felt a light hand touch her shoulder. She turned and found herself looking into a face so heartbreakingly familiar it brought tears to her eyes.

  "Oh, Joe Bob," she said, accepting the hug he offered. "I'm so glad to see you."

  "I try to just go by just Joe these days," he said. "I'm glad to see you, too, Mandy."

  "Daddy would tan your hide if he knew you were here," she said. "Remember? You're no damn good and you'll never amount to nothing."

  "So he told me. Right up until I got elected mayor last year. Then he told me I was no damn good and a politician to boot."

  Mandy smothered a laugh. "Can we get together and catch up?" she asked. "I have to . . ." She gestured toward the front of the church.

  "Of course. I'm tied up for the next couple of days. How about breakfast Friday?"

  "Can we make it lunch?" she asked.

  "Sure thing. Meet me at the cafe at noon?"

  "I'll be there."

  She hurried to the front of the church and took her place beside Jenny on the pew.

  "Was that Joe Bob Mason?" Jenny whispered.

  "He goes by just Joe now," Mandy replied.

  "Well," Jenny said, "just Joe grew up just fine."

  They fell silent as the minister entered the pulpit and gravely adjusted the microphone. "Langston Lockwood was a man who fought the good fight . . . ."

  When Kate stood up to speak, she put a more accurate twist on the same idea. "If our Daddy fought the good fight, it was because he started the trouble in the first place," she said.

  The crowd shifted uncomfortably, but some of them also leaned forward eager to hear what she would say next. Behind her the minister coughed to disguise the soft warning, "Now, Katie." She ignored him.

  "Langston Lockwood was a hard and difficult man and there isn't a one of you here today who would disagree. Most of you had run-ins with him at one time or another. But none of you could look me in the eye and tell me my Daddy was a thief or a liar."

 
; She paused and most of the men nodded in agreement.

  "When that big fire burned half the county back in '86, Daddy was on the front lines with his bulldozer fighting to save the homes of men he wouldn't even speak to on Main Street. He went through a fire line and brought Mrs. Miller and her babies to safety when they got trapped and then turned his back and walked away when she tried to thank him."

  At the back of the church she heard a man say, "Damnedest thing I ever saw," before his wife hushed him for cussing in church.

  "I'm not going to tell you that I understood my father. I'm not going to stand in God's house and tell you I even liked the man, but I did love him. I loved him because he taught me everything I know about the land, about hunting and fishing, about doing business on a handshake and keeping your word."

  "He was hard on me . . ."

  Kate's voice broke on those words and she swallowed to regain her self-control. Finally she looked up and said, "He was hard on me and hard on my sisters, and I think he must have been the devil himself to have for a husband. But he was the only Daddy we had. I stayed up most of the night trying to think what I could say here today about him or his life, and the only thing I could come up with is that he never bowed his head. He lived every day of his life on his own terms and the consequences be damned. I don't think he ever found peace in this world, but I do hope he finds it wherever he is now."

  6

  Kate paused with her hand on the door of the SUV. She turned toward the voice that had called her name and her heart turned over a little. A tall, slender man in a suit walked up and smiled at her shyly. "I don't imagine you remember me, Katie. I'm George Fisk's boy, John. I'd like to offer my condolences on the loss of your father."

  Not remember him? The problem was that she'd never been able to forget him. Other than some elegant silver beginning to come into his sideburns, John Fisk looked exactly the way he had in high school when he was a senior and she was a freshman with a hopeless crush.

  "Of course I remember you, John. Thank you so much. Are you visiting your folks?"

  "Actually, I'm back here now," he said. "Daddy's getting on in years and he asked me to join his legal practice."

  "I thought you went to school to be an accountant," she said, coloring a little at the news of his relocation.

  "I did, but I got bored and decided to go to law school," he grinned.

  "Well, I guess I'll see you when we come in for the reading of Daddy's will." She tried not to sound pleased, and failed.

  "I know I shouldn't mention this at your father's funeral," he said, looking a little uncomfortable, "but, well, Daddy and Langston had an awful falling out a few months ago and he's asked me if I'd handle settling the estate for you girls. That is unless you prefer someone else."

  "Truth be told, John," she said, smiling, "I can't think of anybody I'd rather work with. Shall we come in day after tomorrow?"

  "That would be perfect," he said, offering her his hand. When she took it, he said, "Again, I am so sorry for your loss."

  Was it her imagination, or did he hold her hand a little too long before he said good-bye?

  Kate shook her head at such nonsense. She hadn't thought to check for a ring, but she couldn't imagine John Fisk without a gorgeous wife and three accomplished kids on their way to Harvard.

  When she got in the SUV and closed the door, Jenny said, "Have I lost my mind or were you flirting with a man at Daddy's funeral?"

  Kate fixed her with a disapproving glare. "Drive," she said.

  From the back seat Mandy smothered a giggle and set about fixing her lipstick.

  After the good Christian women of the church fed them congealed salads, green bean casserole, two kinds of potato salad (mustard and mayonnaise), beans, brisket, and red velvet cake, the sisters followed the hearse to the ranch for the private interment.

  As the sun was setting, they stood together while the silver casket slowly descended into the ground. Each sister took a handful of earth from the mound beside the open grave, and stood for a moment before throwing the soil on the casket lid.

  Kate stood over their father the longest, the damp dirt in her hand compressing into a tight ball from the force of her grip. It was almost as if she stood over Langston Lockwood with her fist raised in defiance.

  The gravediggers standing off to the side turned their heads to stare off at the horizon. Harold Insall nervously shifted his weight from one polished wingtip to the other. Finally Jenny stepped up beside her sister. "Let it go, Katie," she said. "Let him go."

  Letting out a ragged breath, Kate threw the dirt into the grave. The clod hit the lid with a hollow thunk. "I'll walk back," she said crisply, turning on her heel.

  Mandy started to try to stop her, but Jenny said quickly, "Let her go."

  Their eyes followed their sister as she opened the gate into the long pasture that sloped down to the house. Automatically Kate replaced the catch and tested the gate before she started walking again.

  "Will she be okay?" Mandy asked.

  "She needs to be by herself with the land," Jenny said. "Sometimes I think this country is the only thing that makes sense to her."

  From behind her, the mortician said, "Ladies, I am terribly sorry, but the light is failing and the men should . . ."

  "Go ahead," Jenny said. "Bury him."

  Insall nodded to the men leaning on their shovels. They began to rhythmically shovel dirt into the hole. Jenny and Mandy stood and watched until a neat mound covered the grave. After he arranged the flowers from the service, Insall yet again offered his unctuous sympathies, and then they were alone.

  "Do you miss this place?" Mandy asked, putting her arm around Jenny's waist and leaning into her.

  Jenny drew her close and kissed the top of her head. "I miss you and Katie."

  "How long are you planning to stay?" Mandy asked.

  "I hadn't really thought about it," Jenny answered honestly. "At least until the will is read."

  "I think we should stay longer than that."

  "Why, honey?"

  "I don't think Katie should be left with all of this on her own. And well, I . . ."

  "You what?" Jenny said.

  "I don't think Daddy killed himself. I walked down to the barn while you and Katie were getting dressed. It doesn't feel right, Jenny."

  Releasing her sister, Jenny turned toward her in the dim light, "Feel right?"

  "Well first off, Daddy would not have put a bullet through a thousand dollar hat," she said. "He just wouldn't. And he was crazy about that antique pistol. He didn't trust anybody else to clean that gun, and well, afterwards it had to be covered in . . . there had to be . . ."

  "I'm following you. Go on."

  "How tall was Daddy?"

  "Six foot six."

  "Well, did you look at the bullet hole in the barn wall?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm five feet tall and it's level with my head. Wouldn't it be a lot higher in the wall if Daddy stood there and killed himself?"

  "I'm not sure. What are you trying to say, Mandy?"

  She shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe I'm just making things up. I'm not as sharp as you and Katie."

  "Stop that," Jenny said. "You're thinking something and I want to know what it is."

  Mandy seemed to gather her courage. "I think Daddy must have been kneeling when he was shot, and I don't think he would have done that."

  Slow realization crept over Jenny. Dear God. Her sister was right. Encouraged, Mandy went on. "Daddy wouldn't have gotten on his knees for anyone, Jenny, unless . . ."

  "Unless someone was holding a gun on him and he was trying to control the situation."

  "You think I'm right?" Mandy asked.

  "I think we need to get to the house and talk to Katie."

  The three sisters stood in a circle in the barn, each holding an electric lantern. Kate had a pistol in her hand.

  "Okay," Kate said, opening the cylinder and triple checking the weapon to make sure it was empty. "Find me
something to stand on."

  Jenny glanced around and caught sight of an old stool. She picked it up and set it at her sister's feet. Kate tested the surface to make sure it would hold her weight and stepped up.

  "This ought to get me around 6'6". Now, the sheriff said he put the gun in his mouth . . ." she turned the pistol around and started to raise it toward her face.

  "Don't!" Mandy cried.

  Kate looked down at her. "It's okay, Mandy. It's empty. I'm just trying to figure out the angle."

  "Can't you guess?" Mandy asked, her voice quivering.

  "Just hold it beside your head," Jenny said. "We can work with the line of sight that way."

  Kate positioned the pistol and Jenny drew an imaginary line from the end of the barrel to the wall in her mind. "Mandy's right, the bullet hole is too low. He couldn't have been standing."

  Stepping off the stool, Kate went down on her knees and held the gun up again. "How about now?"

  "It's not exact, but you're within about a foot of where the hole is now."

  Kate stood up and slapped the dust off the knees of her jeans. "There is no way in hell Daddy died on his knees of his own free will."

  "Do you think we can make anyone believe us?" Jenny asked.

  "I don't know," Kate said. "But we are sure as hell going to try."

  7

  The newly christened law firm of Fisk & Fisk occupied an old brick building on the courthouse square that had once been a saddle maker's shop. Kate, Jenny, and Mandy were ushered into a large office in the corner where John Fisk met them with hand extended.

  "Thank you all for coming in during such a difficult time," he said, gesturing to the leather armchairs and sofa arranged in a semi-circle under the window. "This shouldn't take all that long. Your father's will is as . . . forthright . . . as the man himself."

  On the drive into town the three women had speculated about how Langston Lockwood would dispose of the ranch. "It should be yours, Katie," Mandy said from the back seat. "You're the one who knows how to run it."

  Kate, who was driving, glanced in the rear view mirror at her little sister. "You might as well brace yourself, Mandy," she said. "He's going pull one last stunt from the grave. Mark my words."