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

by Juliette Harper

  Of course, he'd also said with complete conviction that she was a shiftless traitor for buying her own land, Jenny was an ingrate for going away to school and moving north, and Mandy was "the only one of you that will ever amount to anything because at least she's pretty enough to find a husband like a proper woman."

  The warm touch of John's hand covering her own snapped Kate out of her momentary reverie. He smiled at her. "You okay in there?" he asked.

  "Sorry. Did I blank out on you?" Kate asked, awkwardly sliding her hand off the desk and into her lap.

  "I asked what you were planning to do with your ranch," he said. "Are you okay?" he added, with evident concerned.

  "I, uh, I don't know about my place yet," she said, "and, yes, thank you, I'm fine. I should get back to the ranch though. Animals to feed."

  "Of course," John said, rising. "Let me walk you to your truck."

  She'd parked on the other side of the square to take advantage of a shady spot, so they cut across the green expanse of lawn surrounding the courthouse. Searching for a topic of conversation, she asked, "How are you liking being back in town?"

  "Better than I expected to," he admitted. "It's quiet, and I do not miss Dallas traffic, that's for damn sure."

  She laughed. "The only traffic you need to worry about around here are the old folks who don't stop because there's 'no damn need for a stop sign there.'"

  "I think my Dad is almost to that point," John said. "He's about to throw a fit that I'm installing computers."

  "I guess he hasn't needed them with the kind of cases he handles," she said.

  "No, a fax machine still seems high tech to him, but I haven't given up all my 'big city' clients. I can handle a lot by email and video conference with the occasional trip here and there. I'm a pilot and I own a plane."

  "That's impressive," Kate said. "You found a way to come back here and still keep your life out there."

  "Back here and out there are the same world, Kate, you just have to build the right bridges."

  They reached her parking spot. Fisk opened the truck door for her, and Kate climbing behind the wheel. "I'll tell my sisters you said that," she laughed. "They're going to be doing a lot of bridge building here pretty soon"

  "Tell you what," he said, "if you ever need a break and want to, I'll take you up in the plane some afternoon. Have you ever seen the valley from up there?" he asked, pointing at the clouds.

  "No, can't say as I have."

  "It'd be fun to show it to you . . . and to spend some time with you," he added.

  Kate felt her heart take a funny little leap in her chest. Dear God. Was she still a love-struck freshman too tongue-tied to speak to a senior? Screwing up her courage she said, "It would be fun."

  "Great!" he grinned happily. "I know you're tending to a lot right now, but maybe next week?"

  "Sure. Call me and we'll make a plan."

  He stood watching her as she pulled the truck out of the spot. Her window was rolled down and before she drove away, he called out, "No changing your mind, Katie Lockwood. Promise me."

  "I promise," she called back, waving out the window as she turned the wheel to negotiate the corner.

  She cast a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking before she pumped her fist in the air with a silent, "Yes!" It only took 23 years, but John Fisk had just asked her out on a date. Well, okay, maybe not a "date" date, but still.

  After Jenny got off the phone with the California architect, she found a ball of string in the kitchen and some wooden stakes in the barn. She had the dimensions for the shipping containers and an assignment to rough out their planned location. As soon as her broadband was in place, they'd do a video consultation. Based on her ideas, preliminary sketches were being drawn up. With construction and shipping, her new studio and home should be in place in less than six weeks.

  It shocked her to realize just how easy it was going to be to dismantle her life in New York. She kept to herself in the city, which was an oasis of anonymity, rarely straying out of her neighborhood and interacting mainly with her clients online. If this did work out, she could probably pack her place up in a day. Would anyone even notice she was gone? The clerk at the bodega on the corner? The girl who made her coffee?

  She bent to push the first stake into the ground. A touch of breeze stirred her hair and brought with it the scent of the honeysuckle bushes her mother planted years ago on the edges of the stand of trees Jenny was claiming as her own. Even Texas couldn't discourage the tenacious vines from thriving.

  Jenny paced off the dimension of her first "wall" and bent to place the second stake when a movement caught her eye. She squinted and made out the figure of a man on the other side of the fence angling a camera up into the trees. With a flash of recognition she realized the intruder was Joshua Baxter. For God's sake. This was getting old.

  "Hey!" she yelled. "Is trespassing just a hobby with you or what?"

  Baxter lowered the camera, turned, and had the nerve to wave at her happily. "Hi, Jenny," he called out, striding over to the fence. "Beautiful day!"

  "Are you arrogant or just slow?" she demanded. "Yet again you are on Lockwood land."

  "Yep," he agreed. "I am."

  "You do know the definition of trespassing?" she snapped.

  "I do," he said. "But believe it or not, Langston gave me permission."

  "I don't believe it, and Daddy is dead so you can concoct any story you like."

  "Well," Baxter said agreeably, "I guess that does mean I need to get permission all over again."

  "Denied," she barked.

  "Oh come on," he laughed. "Don't you even want to see what I was doing?"

  "No, I don't."

  That didn't stop him from turning his camera around so she could look at the LCD screen. She didn't want to admit it, but his eye was good. She never heard or saw the red-tailed hawk he'd photographed high up in one of the trees, but the pictures were stunningly framed to capture the majesty and power of the bird. Josh sensed her interest and kept flipping through pictures without saying a word.

  "Okay, fine," she said. "You're good. Hobby or business?"

  "Business," he said. "I inherited the last of the Baxter land from my great uncle. I came out here to settle the estate and never left. I still sell stuff like this to magazines and such, but I pay the bills running my place as a nature ranch."

  "What does that mean?" she asked.

  "I let folks come out in small groups to hike, go birdwatching, do their own photography. I built two cabins and won't let more than four people on the land at any one time. During hunting season the people who prefer cameras to guns keep me booked solid."

  "And Daddy let you come on his ranch?" she said skeptically.

  "I know, I was shocked, too. I think he was interested in the cameras to tell you the truth. One day he stopped me out on the lane and growled, 'Give me that camera, boy. I want to see what the hell you've been up to.'"

  "You just handed over your camera?" she asked incredulously. "I'm surprised he didn't hurl it in the bar ditch."

  "I didn't hand it over, but I showed him the pictures," Josh said. "He started talking about the animals. Educating me. Next thing I know, he's says, 'You go down to that stretch of river that belongs to me by your south fence line. The blue herons nest down there. You can take pictures, but don't bother my birds. You come by the house, show me what you get.'"

  "And did you?"

  Josh grinned. "I did. If you look in his study, he had me blow up one of the heron pictures and frame it for him."

  "Did he pay you?"

  "Not in money," Josh laughed, "but he let me on his ranch." He gestured to where she had been working. "What are the stakes for?"

  "Not that it's any of your business," Jenny said, "but I'm going to put my studio here."

  "You're an artist?"

  "Yes," she said. "Freelance graphics."

  "Cool," he said. And then, as if it only then occurred to him. "Hey, I took some pictures
of your barn the other day. Want to see?"

  Since he was already fishing in his bag for the memory card, Jenny didn't stop him. She had to admit the pictures were good. Then she recognized something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

  "When were these taken?" she asked.

  "Last week on Wednesday . . ." He stopped and seemed to be counting the days in his mind. "Oh my God. I am so sorry. It was the day that . . ."

  He started to draw the camera back, but Jenny caught his arm. "Look," she said. "What do you see in that window?"

  Josh stared at the LCD, pushing a button to blow up the image in the screen. They both were looking at a silverbelly Stetson on a man's head framed in the glass.

  "That must to be your Dad," Josh said.

  "Reduce the image again," Jenny said. "Tell me what else is out of place."

  Again Josh pushed the button and studied the photograph. "I don't know," he admitted. "Just the barn. What am I missing?"

  "Blow up that corner," Jenny ordered.

  When Josh complied, the shadow of a car stood out on the small part of the house visible in the image. Josh frowned. "What about it?"

  "Daddy didn't own a car," she said. “Just a pickup. Someone else was here at the ranch when he supposedly killed himself.

  12

  Ranger Jack Swinton sat across the kitchen table from Kate, Jenny, and Mandy staring at the photo of the barn. At Jenny's request, Josh printed out and delivered an 8 x 10, as well as a copy of the digital image, now displayed on Jenny's MacBook sitting in the center of the table.

  Swinton's own Stetson sat on the table beside the machine, down on the crown so as not to ruin the brim. He was alternating between the print out and the computer, occasionally reaching forward to blow up part of the image with his fingers on the Mac's trackpad.

  Finally he sat back in his chair, "I need to talk to Josh Baxter," he said, "but he's telling you he did hear the shot?"

  "Yes," Kate said. "He told Jenny he was walking back to his house. There's a long canyon between the two places. He was down in there and heard the shot, but didn't think anything about it. Gunshots go off out here all the time."

  Swinton nodded, then tapped his finger on the print out, "Anybody ever come out here in a car?"

  "I'm sure they must," Kate said, "but I have no way of knowing. The morning after Daddy was found is the first time I've set foot on this place in five years. All we can tell you is that Daddy didn't own a regular car. Mama had a Buick, which he sold the day after we buried her. Nothing but pick-ups since then. Even in high school we all drove hand-me-down ranch trucks."

  Swinton scrubbed at his jaw with his hand, the gold of his Texas A&M ring glinting in the morning light. "It's not a lot to go on."

  The foursome had just come in from the barn where the girls explained their theory about the height of the bullet hole in the wall. Swinton listened, but didn't say much, although he did agree that the bit about the hat was troublesome. Taking off his own Stetson to smooth his hair down he'd said, "Men don't usually do that."

  "What do you mean?" Jenny asked, leaning back against one of the posts, arms crossed over her chest as if just being in the place where Langston Lockwood died made her feel edgy and defensive.

  "There are a lot of predictable things about suicides," Swinton said. "Men take their hats off. Peace officers remove their badges. Women don't usually shoot themselves in the head. But even with that, it's hard to know what's going through a person's mind at a moment like that."

  "The fact that he used an antique gun he absolutely cherished, knowing it would be covered in . . ." Jenny's voice trailed away and she looked off.

  "I know it seems strange to you," Swinton said kindly, "but I'd expect a man like your Daddy to use his favorite gun."

  "Then let me show you the rest," Jenny said, pushing off the post and marching toward the house with Swinton and her sisters in tow.

  Once confronted with the photograph, the ranger seemed more thoughtful. "It's not a lot to go on, but let me talk to the sheriff and read his reports," he said, standing up. "I can't promise you ladies anything, but I will check it out."

  "That's all we're asking, Jack," Kate said, shaking the hand he offered.

  Swinton took his leave of Jenny and Mandy, and Kate walked him out to his pick-up. When she came back into the kitchen she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and filled her sisters' cups. "Okay," she said. "I guess that's all we can do for now."

  "About that, at least," Jenny said. "We have all kinds of other things to get done."

  Jenny's words were an understatement. The next month on the Rocking L was a flurry of activity. Mandy was soon on a first name basis with the UPS driver who no longer seemed to mind coming all the way out in the country to drop off her endless stream of packages.

  Jenny proved to be a marvel of technological expertise, bringing the ranch into the 21st century with broadband and associated gadgets that improved their cell phone reception at the ranch house.

  Mandy returned to Houston briefly to clean out her apartment, and for the time being installed herself in her old bedroom with the remainder of her possessions in storage. To Kate and Jenny's considerable surprise, she asked if she could renovate the original Rocking L ranch house that sat deserted a half a mile behind the current structure.

  "You want to live in the old house?" Kate asked.

  "It's in a really pretty spot," Mandy said, "and you all lived there when you were little, before I was born."

  "Without indoor plumbing, and the only heat coming from wood stoves because Daddy was so damn tight," Jenny said.

  "Well, I certainly intend to get all of that fixed," Mandy said. "I'm not talking about some life on the frontier reality show."

  With her sisters' agreement, she set about her renovation plans, first by hiring someone to come out and cut a new road between the two houses. A parade of carpenters joined the UPS man. Although Kate had sagely warned Mandy that it took forever to get little town workmen to actually do anything, her baby sister proved her wrong.

  Morning after morning the trucks arrived at 8 a.m. on the dot, the men waving happily to Mandy who, infused with a new energy, made it a point to always be on the front porch with her espresso, brewed to perfection in the shiny new La Marzocco GS/3 she'd installed in the kitchen.

  "You paid seven thousand dollars for a glorified coffee pot?" Kate had asked, staring in astonishment at the invoice.

  "Oh stop it, you sound like Daddy," Mandy said, expertly tamping grinds and drawing a perfect shot for her sister. She grinned when Kate took an experimental sip, her eyes widening in appreciation.

  "Where on earth did you learn to do that?" she asked.

  "I worked at Starbucks when I was in college, silly," Mandy said.

  "Of course you did," Jenny laughed. "Latte, please."

  Mandy giggled and poured milk to froth, launching into a detailed account of her life as a barista. Kate drank her espresso and watched her sisters, a long forgotten surge of love for them filling her heart. After their mother died, Kate's responsibilities on the ranch expanded in direct proportion to Langston's tyrannies. She'd had no time to enjoy her own girlhood, much less the company of her sisters.

  For the time being they were all three living in the house. The foundations had been poured and plumbing laid for Jenny's studio and home, which were both currently on a truck making their way east from California.

  Kate's own transition began by putting all of her livestock onto Rocking L land. Every day she brought a few things over from her place. She had started to move back into her old room, but Jenny put her foot down. "Don't be ridiculous. You're moving into the master and that's it."

  So together they folded their father's shirts and jeans into cardboard boxes destined for the church's community pantry, along with his boots and belts. They couldn't bring themselves to part with his hats, which remained in their boxes high on a shelf in the hall closet.

  Pablo and Ramon
e helped them carry out the furniture and bed Langston used, replacing them with Kate's own. When everything was arranged and she opened the double doors and stepped out onto the back porch, she felt a quiet sense of ownership settle over her. Domineering father or not, this was the land that was in her blood, and with her sisters' help, she intended to make something of it. And she intended to repair the family's reputation in the community.

  "How about we have a barbecue," she said one night at supper.

  "You mean have people here at the ranch?" Jenny asked.

  "I know," Kate laughed, "Daddy will do grave spins, but if we're going to live in this town, we need to show everyone the Langston Lockwood reign of terror is over. We can get the boys to dig a pit and do the cooking for us down in the pecan bottom, hire a band, maybe even put up a dance floor. We do know people after all and God knows the whole town is dying to see what's going on out here. I'll bet you two haven't had decent cabrito in years."

  "Oh my God," Jenny said, grinning. "Cabrito. I love goat meat.”

  "Let's do it!" Mandy said happily. "Organizing parties is totally my thing. And can I ask Jolene and her family?"

  "Honey, you can ask anyone you like, and I'll tell you what," Kate said. "I'll have Ramone rig some swings down in the bottom for the kids to play on. They can play in the river, too. The water's not deep enough to swim, but it's good wading."

  And with that, Mandy pulled out her iPad, started making lists, and the first party to be thrown on the Rocking L in more than 50 years was set in motion.

  13

  Three days before the barbecue, two trucks arrived at the ranch amid billows of dust followed by a third outfitted with a crane. As the women watched, Jennifer's new house and studio were lowered onto their foundations.

  Once the workmen attached the water and electrical lines, the foreman threw a switch. With mechanical smoothness, the long sides of the container slowly arched upward revealing windows and doors while creating shaded porches front and back.