Amy’s eyes grew large. “Your blood?” she gasped.
Chris looked from the marks on the floor to the leather belt and cuff holding Kate’s crippled shoulder immobilized. “This is where it happened,” he said simply.
“Yes,” Kate said. “I was shot in that far corner and dragged myself outside. Horsefly, the horse Jake rode up here, went back to the ranch house and led everyone up here. He saved my life.”
“You were shot because of the gold, weren’t you?” Chris said.
“That’s enough,” Jake interjected, an edge to his voice.
Kate looked at him and for the first time realized how hard it was for Jake to talk about the night she was hurt. He’d been in Mexico City when it happened, and according to Jenny, almost got himself thrown in jail harassing the airline to get him back to Texas.
“I think that night bothers all of you more than it does me,” Kate said. “I really need the whole bunch of you to just get over it. In case none of you have noticed, I lived.”
A slight flush colored Jake’s tanned features. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but the rest of us, as you so delicately put it, can’t stop thinking about the fact that you almost died.”
Amy and Chris both shifted uneasily and suddenly got very interested at staring anywhere but at Kate and Jake.
“Daddy used to say that close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” Kate said, catching and holding Jake’s eye. “The son of a bitch shot me, but he didn’t come close to killing me.”
Jake started to argue, thought better of it, and looked down. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, Kate was shot over the gold. An unprincipled collector had been tracking Mr. Lockwood’s sales of the Aztec artifacts for years. When I showed up on the Rocking L, he started to worry that I would find the treasure first, and sent a man to watch me and the family.”
Sudden realization dawned on Kate as she listened to him talk. “Chris, Amy,” she said, “would you give me and Jake a minute, please?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Of course,” Amy said, standing up so quickly it was obvious that she, for one, was very glad for a reason to get out of the little room.
When they were alone, Kate said to Jake, “How long have you been blaming yourself for my getting shot?”
Although the question made him extremely uncomfortable, Jake knew better than to lie to her. “Since the moment Jenny called me and told me what happened,” he said in a low voice. “If I hadn’t started poking around the dry creek bed . . .”
“Robert Marino would still have made a move for the treasure,” Kate said, “but we would have been completely blindsided. In case you’ve forgotten, Jake, if you hadn’t started poking around the dry creek bed, we wouldn’t have known anyone was watching us.”
He set his jaw in a hard line. “I put you in the line of that bullet," he said stubbornly, "all because I was so determined to prove my pet theory about the silver associated with the Mission San Saba.”
Kate took two steps toward him and laid her hand on his arm. “Sorry, Professor,” she said lightly. “You’re just not that powerful.”
Jake looked up in shock. “What?” he asked.
“Nobody is that powerful,” she said. “You made choices. I made choices. The guy with the gun made choices. Any one of us could have done the slightest little thing differently and you would have been the one to get shot and I’d be blaming myself. Let it go, Jake. It never even entered my mind to blame you, so there’s no sense in you blaming yourself.”
He swallowed hard and said, “I can’t stand the thought of anything hurting you, Kate.”
“I know that,” she said. “And I know you’re trying awful hard to get close to me. I’m not nearly as blind as everybody thinks I am. What happened to me wasn’t your fault, and I’m not going to have it getting in the way of you doing your job up here. I’m damned interested in this job of yours, and I’m starting to think you’re pretty damned interesting, too.”
“But it was my . . . ..” His mouth clamped shut as his mind caught up with what she’d just said. “You think I’m interesting?” he asked, sounding as if he was quite sure he’d misunderstood what she’d just said.
“Yes,” Kate said, “I do.” She leaned forward and kissed Jake lightly. “But if we’re going to start considering any mutual interest, this busted wing of mine is not going to be a factor between us. Understood, Professor?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning happily. “Understood.”
71
Jenny studied the woman sitting across from her at the table. She looked distinctly out of place in the small rustic cafe on the courthouse square.
The building was a former hardware store with big picture windows spanning the wall facing the street. The rays of the late afternoon sun streamed through the glass throwing the details of the native rock on the west wall into intricate patterns of light and dark.
Bright sun puddles splayed across the gleaming hardwood floor. The finish was new, but the boards weren’t, and Jenny recognized more than one spot where a pair of spurs had gouged the wood in years past.
It was too early for the supper crowd, so she and Jessica Northrup had the place largely to themselves. They were now sitting with cooling coffee in their cups and a kind of familial awkwardness hanging in the air between them.
Jessica had said she was Trip Northrup's daughter, then quickly corrected myself. "My father's real name is Joseph Allen Northrup, the third," she said. "He's the oldest of the three Northrup children. Aunt Amanda was the middle child. Your mother, Aunt Irene, was the baby of the family."
There was no doubt in Jenny’s mind that the woman was telling the truth. She could see shadows of her own mother’s face in Jessica’s features, and the cultured Boston accent was identical to Irene’s. But it was too much of a coincidence for Jenny to believe that she and Jessica had simply stepped out of two doors at the same time in Mason, Texas and “accidentally” met.
“Have you been following me?” Jenny asked suspiciously.
“Yes,” Jessica admitted with an embarrassed smile. “I’m afraid I have.”
“Do you mind telling me why?” Jenny asked.
The sharp edge of the question was not lost on the other woman who answered earnestly. “I don’t blame you for being annoyed with me,” Jessica said. “I’m afraid this all started when I crashed your sister Amanda’s wedding.”
“We call her Mandy,” Jenny said tersely. “And just what were you doing at her wedding?”
“I’ve been trying to find a way to get in contact with you and your sisters for several months,” Jessica said. “I did an online search for your names and found out about your father’s suicide. I am so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Jenny murmured.
“After that,” Jessica said, “I set an alert for any other mention of your family, so I know the highlights of the treasure discovery and the shooting with that thug who called himself an art dealer.”
The hard line of Jenny’s jaw made it clear what she thought of her cousin’s explanation. “If you’re here about the treasure you can just stop right now,” she said. “The Aztec artifacts have been donated to the foundation for Mesoamerican studies we established in Daddy’s name.”
“I assure you I’m not here about the treasure,” Jessica said, unperturbed at the implication that she was a gold digger. “I only told you that story as a background to how I came to know Cousin Mandy was to be married. I flew down here imagining that I would simply arrive and introduce myself, but I lost my nerve at the last moment.”
“So you’ve just been hanging around for the past three weeks?” Jenny asked. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You may believe what you wish,” Jessica said, “but I have never been to Texas. I’ve used the time to travel to San Antonio, Austin, and Houston. I far prefer Austin, by the way. It’s a most progressive city.”
“Well,” Jenny said, “the city slogan is ‘keep Austin weird.’”
Jessica laughed, the sound a happy trill that made Jenny smile in spite of herself. “Please believe me,” Jessica said, “I have no nefarious intent. I was on the lane leading to your farm . . .”
“Ranch,” Jenny corrected automatically.
“Excuse me, your ranch,” Jessica said, “when I saw you pull out onto the main road. I thought perhaps I could engineer an ‘accidental’ meeting. I had no way of knowing how far from home you would be driving today. I went into the winery to purchase three bottles to bring to the ranch as a gift for each of you. I had decided it was foolish of me not to simply come and introduce myself. It truly was an accident that we both stepped out at the same time. I wanted to speak to you before I lost my nerve again.”
“You seem to have plenty of nerve,” Jenny said, but she was smiling.
“I am not known in the family for my reticence,” Jessica admitted, returning the smile.
The waitress appeared with a fresh pot of coffee. “Would you gals like a refill?”
“Please,” Jenny said, pushing her cup closer. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, honey,” the woman smiled. “How about you?”
“No,” Jessica said.
The waitress looked at her as if she was expecting something more, then set her mouth and said, “suit yourself” before walking off.
Jenny sighed and shook her head. “Let me give you a word to the wise, Yankee cousin of mine,” she said. “If you want decent service down here, tack a ‘thank you’ on the end of your replies and it wouldn’t hurt to toss in a ‘ma’am.’”
Jessica frowned. “Do I have to use that phrase you southerners are famous for?” she asked. “Something about blessing someone’s heart?”
“No,” Jenny said, laughing. “The subtle inferences on the proper use of that phrase are too complicated for a northerner.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jessica said, “but I will take your word for it.”
“So,” Jenny said, “why now? So far as I know, Mama had no contact with her people in Boston after she came to Texas in the 1970s.”
“Thirty-nine years precisely,” Jessica said. “I’m afraid Grandfather didn’t approve when Aunt Irene married your father.”
Jenny let that statement hang in the air as she took a drink of her fresh coffee. Still holding the cup in her hands, she looked over the rim at Jessica. “Let’s be adults here, shall we?” she said. “I suspect what ‘grandfather’ didn’t like was that my Mama ditched a potential United States senator to run off to Mexico with a Texas rancher ten years her senior.”
“You’re right about that, he didn’t,” Jessica agreed. “He disowned your mother for bringing shame to the family with her romantic foolishness.”
“Let me assure you of one thing,” Jenny said, setting her cup down. “Mama may have had romantic notions about my father, but her marriage brought her no happiness.”
“It pains me to hear that,” Jessica said, sounding as if she meant the words. “And I’m quite sorry I didn’t know Aunt Irene. I believe that you and I are the same age.”
“I’m 34,” Jenny said.
Jessica nodded. “So am I,” she said. “So you see all this ridiculous business of disowning Aunt Irene had already occurred when I was born.”
“Does your father know you’re here?” Jenny asked.
“He doesn’t,” Jessica said, “and he won’t be happy when he finds out that I am.”
“Why are you here?” Jenny asked.
“I was under the impression that southerners believed knowing one’s family is quite important,” Jessica said. “Am I mistaken about that?”
“No,” Jenny said. “The whole idea of your ‘people’ is a big deal down here, but I have to tell you, none of us have ever thought of ourselves as Northrups. We’re Lockwoods, and in this part of Texas that means sixth generation ranchers with ties to the Texas Revolution.”
“But you and your sisters are half Northrup,” Jessica said. “Aren’t you curious about that?”
Jenny grinned. “To be real honest with you, we don’t own up to being half Yankee unless we’re forced to. The War of Northern Aggression is still a touchy subject down here.”
Jessica looked confused. “The War of Northern . . . ” she paused as the information came together in her mind. “You mean the Civil War?”
“Yes,” Jenny said.
“But wasn’t that a hundred or more years ago?” Jessica asked.
“One hundred and fifty years ago this past April,” Jenny said.
“You actually know when the Civil War ended?”
“April 9, 1865.”
“I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what to say in response to that,” Jessica admitted.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Jenny laughed. “And really, I’m just giving you a hard time. We haven’t purposely distanced ourselves from our Northrup relatives. It was just communicated to us that you all had no interest in having anything to do with us.”
“That might be true of the older Northrups,” Jessica said, “but it’s not true of me, and I don’t think it would be true of my cousins either. I have taken it upon myself to test the waters, so to speak. How do you think your sisters will feel about my sudden appearance?”
Jenny thought about the question for a minute. She had no intention of showing up at the ranch with a Yankee cousin in tow not knowing what Kate and Jake had discovered up in Baxter’s Draw. “Where are you staying?” she asked.
“At the Y.O. Ranch Hotel in Kerrville,” Jessica said. “Apparently it used to be a Hilton.”
“Okay,” Jenny said. “You’re about 60 miles from there, so I would suggest you go back and wait to hear from me. I need to talk with my sisters. I’m pretty sure they’ll want to meet you, but I think a little preparation is a good idea.”
“Agreed,” Jessica said, taking an embossed calling card out of her handbag. “This is my cell number,” she said. “Please call me at any time. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
They said their good-byes on the sidewalk outside and drove away in opposite directions.
Jessica waited until she was well out of town to make a phone call. “I met her,” she said without prelude.
“How did it go?” a man’s voice asked.
“I think it went well,” she said. “I played the family card just as you suggested.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m going back to what passes for a luxury hotel in this God forsaken wilderness,” Jessica said disdainfully. “She says she has to speak with her sisters.”
“Of course she does,” the man said sarcastically. “The Lockwood women are quite the paragons of solidarity.”
“I feel certain I will be receiving an invitation to that farm of theirs,” she said. “Oh. Excuse me. In the hick vernacular it’s referred to as a ranch.”
“I don’t care what they call it,” he said. “Just get access to the land and ingratiate yourself with your family. The success of our plans depends on your ability to be cordial, Jessica. I’m relying on you.”
“And I am placing the same reliance on you,” she said. “I expect to be amply rewarded for this foray into the seamier roots of my family tree.”
“I assure you that the terms of our arrangement will be honored to the letter,” he said. “Call me when you have something new to report.”
72
Jake sat down heavily on the end of the Murphy bed in the cave in Baxter’s Draw and declared, “I am done.”
Kate, who was sitting on the hearth staring at the chalk marks on the floor, said sourly, “Quitter.”
“We have been in here for three solid hours,” he groused. “We’ve tried moving anything and everything that screams ‘secret trap door trigger.’”
Kate shook her head. “That’s the problem,” she said. “Daddy wouldn’t have made it something as obvious as a wall sconce that twists to the side. That’s too much of a cliché for some
body like him.”
Amy, who had been crawling around on her hands and knees with her face bent close to a magnifying glass, sat up and put her back against the wall opposite Kate. “I love puzzles of all kinds,” she said, “but I can’t find anything in here that looks like a button or a lever. Maybe we need better light.”
“I don’t think the lighting has anything to do with it,” Chris said. “Your father really didn’t want anyone finding the release to that trap door, which just makes me all the more curious about what’s down there. I’m telling you, this is worse than one of those Sudoku puzzles I can never figure out.”
Jake stood up. “We’re all worn out,” he said. “Let’s call it quits for now. It’s not like we can’t come back up here any time we want.”
Kate got to her feet and Chris made a move toward the cave entrance, but Amy stayed put. She was staring fixedly at the rock above the fireplace mantle.
“Amy,” Jake said, “are you coming?”
“Dr. Martin,” she said slowly, “what’s the primary geology of this area?”
“We’re on the Edwards Plateau,” he said. “It’s mainly limestone until you get a little farther north and east. Then you run into red granite. Why?”
She pointed at the fireplace. “Then why did Mr. Lockwood put those six red rocks there?”
They all turned to look, and Kate said under her breath, “Langston, you old son of a bitch.”
She and Jake stepped forward and examined the pattern of the rocks more closely. At the top, a single dark stone sat alone, centered in the middle of the native rock work.
“Did he build the fireplace?” Jake asked.
“Yes,” Kate said. “According to his journals, he just gathered rocks from inside the canyon and laid them himself.”
“Do you have any native red rock on the ranch?” Amy asked, coming to stand beside them.
“No,” Kate said. “There’s some flint, but not any granite like that.”
“It’s interesting,” Amy said. “There are really three rows. See? The one on the top is in the center, and then there’s a second row with a rock on the far left and far right. And then down here at the bottom, the three stones line up with the ones above them.”
The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories Page 44
