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

by Juliette Harper

  "I could have said running,” he said calmly, “but I figured you'd come over here and use that poker on me."

  "You figured right," she said, this time turning toward him. "I don't run, Josh Baxter, and don't you get it in your head that I do. You think I'm a coward? Try standing up to me and see how far you get."

  "Now simmer down," he said easily. "Me and you are doing a right fine job of getting to know each other between the sheets and believe you me, I am not complaining. But Jenny, honey, we gotta get to know each other with our clothes on, too, and you just don't want to talk to me. You get real close and then you’re up and off. I don't bite, darling."

  "There's nothing to tell that you don’t already know,” she said flatly. “I was born here. I left when I was 17. I put myself through college. I lived and worked in New York. Daddy killed himself and left me a third of this ranch. Now I live here, and for some unknown reason, I’ve taken up with you.”

  “Unknown reason my ass,” he said, refusing to budge. “You took up with me because I make you laugh and get you to ease up on yourself. And there is no way in hell that is your whole life story. I want to know you, Jennifer Lockwood, and I do not mean just in the Biblical sense. Talk to me."

  "Talking to people never gets you anywhere," she said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. “Talking just buys trouble.”

  "I'm not 'people,' and the last thing I want is to be in trouble with you. I’d rather castrate a grizzly bear,” Josh said, pushing himself up and backwards onto the couch.

  “You don’t have to make me sound like such a bitch,” she snapped.

  “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. You’re not a bitch and I didn’t say you were. I don't go to bed with a woman unless she means a hell of a lot to me. You do.”

  "Stop it," she said. "We're having a great time. Why can't we just leave it at that?"

  "Because I'm falling for you," he said honestly, "and the longer I’m around you, the more I think somebody other than Langston Lockwood has hurt you awful bad in this life.”

  Jenny didn't answer. Josh just sat there, arms on his knees, waiting. Finally she let out an exasperated breath, “You are an annoying man, do you know that? Langston Lockwood hurt me first. Then I let men like him hurt me all over again. The last one was the worst."

  "The worst how?"

  "He had a lot of money and a lot of power and was accustomed to getting what he wanted. When he didn't get it, he had a nasty temper."

  “Did he hit you?” Josh asked, his voice tight.

  "Once," she said. "He hit me one time."

  “Son of a bitch,” he said darkly. "I would never do that to you.”

  "Oh, for God's sake," she exploded. “Jesus, Josh. Really? Don't you think I know that? Don't be an ass."

  "Is this man still bothering you?" he persisted. “Tell me the truth.”

  “Stop that,” she commanded. “Don’t go getting all chivalrous cowboy on me. And for your information, I always tell the truth.”

  “I’m just being who I am, sugar,” he said stubbornly. “And don’t you go expecting me to like it that some sorry son of a bitch laid a hand on you.”

  The set of his jaw and the fiercely protective look in his eyes softened her heart with a surge of growing love. “I don’t expect you to like it,” she said. “Hell, I don’t like it. Admitting that I let a man hit me is not an easy thing for me to do.”

  “Let him? Don’t tell me for one second you think getting hit is ever the woman’s fault. That’s bullshit put out by sorry cowards who think they’re men. They’re nothing but bullies and assholes.”

  She crossed the room and sat down beside him, mirroring his posture. After a second, she reached for his right hand with her left and intertwined their fingers. “Josh, I know it wasn’t my fault. That doesn’t mean I like admitting it happened. I took care of it myself. He’s not bothering me. Just in my head sometimes. I haven't heard from him in years."

  Josh’s fingers tightened around hers. “Where is he?”

  “Back in New York. Too far away for you to go kick his ass.”

  “That’s what airplanes are for,” he said darkly.

  “You really are a chivalrous cowboy, aren’t you?” she said.

  “Huh,” he grumbled. “I’m just me.”

  "Has the drone made the drop?" the man behind the desk asked.

  "Yes, sir,” his assistant answered crisply. “The lenses were delivered. I received confirmation 15 minutes ago."

  A wreath of cigar smoke curled up around his head. "I asked to be informed immediately. Not 15 minutes after the fact."

  "I . . . uh . . . sir . . . I'm . . .," the assistant stammered, his face turning beet red.

  "Get out of here you imbecile," the man snapped. "You are fortunate that I am in a good mood tonight."

  "Yes, sir," the assistant said, backpedaling toward the door. "Thank you, sir."

  When the insufferable little toad was gone, the man swiveled in his chair to regard the glossy images of the Lockwood sisters again. Yes, they were unexpected complications. Especially Jennifer, but then she had always been complicated, which he rather enjoyed. Her ingratitude was another matter. He intended to get what he wanted off that ranch, and then Jennifer would get the education in manners she so desperately deserved.

  36

  Jake Martin adjusted his headphones and returned to rhythmically sweeping the ground in front of him with his metal detector. By nature he was a gregarious man, but he loved days like these when he was completely alone in a remote location “hunting.” What he did not know was at that very moment, he himself was prey.

  A hundred yards off to his left, a man in a ghillie suit blended perfectly with the brush and debris piled up around a smattering of limestone boulders. The operative, growing more disenchanted with the cold nights in his hidden blind high on the cliffs, decided to take the lead in this surveillance and use his new telephoto lenses to their greatest advantage.

  Sitting around his tiny concealed fire the night before, he’d envisioned the conversation with his mystery employer. “These photos are useless to me,” the voice would sneer with cold disdain. “There’s not enough detail. Do I have to do everything?” Money going into an account in the Caymans or not, this gig was rapidly not worth it.

  So, he’d pulled out the ghillie suit he’d ordered at the last minute on his own initiative before coming out to this godforsaken pile of Texas rock. Picking his way carefully down the side of the mountain in the darkness, he was in place and invisible long before the archaeologist pulled up in the green utility vehicle and began his day’s work.

  The camera was mounted on a rifle stock, and since the professor wore headphones to pick up the tiniest blip from his metal detector, slight shifts to correct the photographic angle were not a problem. The archaeologist seemed to be enjoying himself, intently concentrating on his work but in a Zen state of focus his observer knew well. It was the same way he’d felt as an elite military sniper. That rare alternative reality into which the mind slips when it’s primed to seize not just the perfect moment, but the perfect second to achieve its goal.

  These daily sessions with the metal detector had been going on for a week now and all the good doctor had to show for it were a few horse shoes, some old shotgun shells, and a random collection of arrowheads he’d spotted by sight. The observer had long ago decided they were all nuts — the professor, his employer, that photographer guy Baxter — there wasn’t a damned thing up here but rocks and cedar bushes.

  But just as these disparaging thoughts ran through the camouflaged man’s head, Jake paused and slowly moved his metal detector back over the area in front of him, making smaller and smaller motions until he seemed to pinpoint what he was looking for. He slipped off the headphones and, squatting down, began to carefully remove rocks from his path, which he then piled up to the side.

  After several minutes, he’d cleared a circle of sandy soil over which he ran the detector again. Unclippi
ng a small trowel from his belt and unfolding some sort of small screened box from the pack on his waist, Jake began to carefully dig. He meticulously sifted each scoop, a mound of earth growing beside the cairn of rocks he’d created.

  Suddenly he stopped, a broad grin splitting his tanned features. Reaching into the pack again, he took out a compact digital camera and began to photograph whatever was lying at his feet. His observer squeezed off a couple of shots as well, watching intently through the telephoto. When Jake seemed satisfied with his documentation, he reached into the hole and reverently removed what looked like a clod of dirt — until his fingers broke away the soil and the light hit what he was holding.

  “Well, I will just be damned,” the man thought as Jake held up a small gold object. “Maybe they’re not so crazy after all.” This day had suddenly gotten a whole lot more interesting. He zoomed in to get a detailed shot of the object only to see Jake freeze and look directly at him. The man went completely still, taking his eyes slightly out of focus and calling on well-honed discipline to still his breathing and quell the slightest urge to react in any way.

  Jake turned, staring intently and took a few steps toward the boulders just as a rock squirrel clambered up the biggest chunk of stone and began chattering furiously. “Okay, okay, keep your fur on,” Jake said. “My bad. Your pile of rocks. Go back to whatever you were doing.”

  The observer silently released the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t dare take any more photos, and so he simply watched as Jake carefully wrapped the golden object in a bandanna and secured it in his pack before collecting his gear and hurrying to his vehicle. The man didn’t move until the sound of the engine had been gone for 15 minutes, then he stood stiffly, threw back the hood of his ghillie suit, and started the long climb to his camp.

  “It was a foolish risk,” the man on the satellite phone growled, “but fortunately for you, it paid off handsomely. I will be appending a bonus to your salary, but if you do something that idiotic again, that and more will be docked from your pay. When I give an order, I expect it to be followed to the letter. ”

  Now back at his concealed camp, the observer rolled his eyes but said crisply, “Yes, sir.”

  “Continue to document what Dr. Martin is doing each day. If more gold surfaces, I may give you permission to move closer. For now, stay where you are. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir. . . . Sir?”

  “What?”

  “May I ask a question?”

  “No, you may not. This is a need-to-know operation and you do not need to know.” The line went dead and the observer swore, “What an asshole.”

  When Kate heard the mule’s engine in the pasture she glanced at her watch. Not even noon? Why was Jake coming back so early today? He normally stayed up at the creek bed until dusk. She met him at the gate, opening it for him and then following him to his trailer. He cut the engine and looked at her with elation.

  “I take it you found something?” she asked, grinning.

  “Did I ever!” he said. “Come inside with me.”

  Dutifully she followed him into the trailer and watched as he removed a bandana from his waistpack, laid it on the counter, and unfolded the fabric. There, lying in the center of the cloth, sat a tiny piece of gold.

  Coming closer and bending down Kate could not believe what she was seeing. “What is it?” she asked in a shocked tone.

  “An Aztec lip ornament.”

  “Aztec?” she repeated. “Here? In the Texas Hill County? How is that even possible?”

  “I’m not completely sure,” he admitted, drawing back one of the barstools and sitting down. He motioned to Kate to do the same. “It either means the Aztecs were in this part of the country and the story about those pre-existing walls at the Mission San Saba are true, or something from Mexico was brought north and hidden here. Either way . . .”

  “This is the find of a lifetime,” she said. “My God, Jake. Congratulations. This is incredible.”

  “Thank you. I can’t even begin to . . .” He stopped in mid-sentence and stared at her. “What?”

  “I think there are some things you need to know about Baxter’s Draw,” she said. “Let me find Mandy and Jenny. This is a conversation they need to be in on.”

  An hour later, the four of them were all seated in the small living area of Jake’s trailer. They’d all seen the lip ornament now, which was in the shape of a serpent, tiny tongue extended through rows of sharp-edged teeth.

  It was Jake’s turn to look stunned as he listened to Kate recite the events of the last few months and what they knew about how Baxter’s Draw figured into them.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said. “This John Fisk guy was trying to get your Dad to what, sell him Baxter’s Draw?”

  “We’re honestly not sure,” Kate said. “In the unfinished letter to us that Daddy wrote he said there was something he had to deal with about the draw, and John Fisk had a map of the ranch in his pocket when he died with the draw circled.”

  “And your Dad went up there all the time?” Jake asked.

  “At least once a month when we were kids,” Jenny said. “Sometimes more often. No one was allowed to ask why and he was adamant about never cutting a road up there.”

  “Do you think something is hidden in the draw?” Mandy asked. “I mean, could it really be this mine or buried treasure or something?”

  “I have a theory,” Kate said quietly.

  They all turned to look at her. “I’ve been spending a lot of time in Daddy’s study,” she continued. “I’m used to living in a lot less space than the ranch house and that’s the smallest room in the place. I like to read in there at night and I’ve been going back through the old ranch ledgers. Daddy kept all of them, even from his first year on the place after Grandpa died in 1958. You all know there was a big drought in Texas in the 1950s?”

  Jake nodded, “I have a colleague who wrote the definitive history of that drought. She routinely recommends her dissertation as bedtime reading for anyone with insomnia.”

  Kate laughed. “I imagine it’s boring as hell to read about no rain for seven years and a lot of dead livestock, but it wasn’t boring to live it. That was a life-and-death time for Texas ranching. A lot of the old timers think it was the ruination of the way of life because they had to take government feed and subsidies. Daddy used to say younger ranchers — me included — didn’t have what it took any more to live this life.”

  “Put your hand out one time and you’re a beggar for life,” Jenny said bitterly. “I can just hear him now.”

  “So where’d he get the money he invested in the 1960s?” Kate asked. “It sure as hell didn’t come from selling sheep and goats. You look at those books and the Rocking L was struggling just like every other ranch to come back from that drought, but we inherited millions that Daddy started building up just a few years after he took this place over.”

  “You think Daddy found a buried treasure up in Baxter’s Draw?” Mandy asked, her eyes going wide. “That sounds like some kind of adventure movie!”

  “Usually when people in movies find buried treasure it makes their life better in some way,” Jenny pointed out. “Daddy got more miserable by the day and made damned sure everyone around him was miserable, too.”

  “Jake, what do you think?” Kate asked.

  Jake sat staring at the Aztec jewelry for several seconds and then said, “I always figured whatever I found in the creek bed would have washed down from higher up. If there is something in Baxter’s Draw, we’re not going to find it where I’ve been working. Also is there any chance . . .”

  “Any chance of what?” Jenny asked.

  “I don’t want to be an alarmist, but is there any chance this ranch is being watched?”

  Kate snorted, “The family lawyer was shot by a sniper from a good mile and a half off, so yeah, there’s a good chance we’re being watched. Why?”

  “Up there today I just had the strangest feeling I wasn’t alone.
Then I heard something in a big pile of boulders and started to go have a look, but a rock squirrel started fussing at me. I dismissed the whole thing from my mind. Now I’m not so sure.”

  Kate stood up, “Let’s go back up there. I want you to show me.”

  “What do you see, Katie?” Mandy asked, watching her sister who was examining the area around the boulders.

  “There was someone here,” Kate said, standing up and motioning them to come over. “He must have been camouflaged in some way. He was on his belly right here for a long time. Probably was in place before you even got here.”

  She stepped away from the boulders and scanned the high bluffs. “If he’s still here, I imagine he’s up there somewhere.”

  Jenny moved to stand beside her. “What do you want to do?”

  “There’s no sense trying to look for him,” Kate said. “He could be anywhere up in those rocks, and if he thinks we’re on to him, he’ll just melt into the backcountry and disappear.”

  “How do you know he isn’t watching us now?” Jenny asked.

  “I don’t,” Kate said, “but nobody’s coming up here alone again.”

  Up on the bluffs, the observer was sound asleep in his camp, grateful that the archaeologist was gone for the day so he could get some rest. It wasn’t as easy to get up at three in the morning as it used to be. He’d done a good day’s work and now he deserved a break, goddamn it, no matter what that asshole in New York said. Fitfully he rolled over and for just a minute thought he heard the utility vehicle’s motor, but then sleep claimed him again.

  37

  Mandy was almost desperate to tell Jolene Wilson about Jake’s discovery in the creek bed, but the memory of the gunshot that killed John Fisk stopped her. She would never for one minute do anything to endanger Jolene’s family, and although it made her uneasy to admit it, Mandy did feel they were all in danger.