by Sylvia Nobel
“Don’t concern yourself. We’ll hold down the fort.” He edged me a conspiratorial grin. “I’ll be just fine as long as Mary doesn’t give me a load of grief about putting in too many hours.”
His doting wife kept pretty close tabs on him since his last medical emergency, and even though I knew he was imminently capable of running the show without me, I couldn’t suppress a tiny twinge of guilt as I began writing my article.
By the time I finished and tapped the send button, shafts of bright sunlight streamed through the blinds, enhancing the effect of the lemon yellow paint I’d chosen. The drab, scarred furniture had been replaced, along with the ancient computer equipment, creating an updated working environment that had improved productivity and morale, but we still struggled with the aggravation of being constantly understaffed. Why work out in the sticks when the bustling metropolis of Phoenix offered a seasoned reporter far more challenges?
“Okay, Tugg,” I said, gathering my things, “I’m out of here.”
“Have a great time with your folks! We’ll see you later at the Starfire.”
I stepped into the hallway and paused to dial Fritzy’s number. I wasn’t surprised to get her voice mail and left a message for her to call or text me. When I entered my old office, Jim was at his desk working, but Walter’s chair was empty. “Hi, Jim, where’s Walter?”
He cocked his head in my direction. “Apparently he’s taken up residence in the shitter,” he announced with a devilish smirk. “He’s having himself a royal crapathon this morning.”
“Charming.”
“I’m not kidding. He’s got a serious case of the squirts!”
“Whoa, whoa! That’s more information than I need, but thanks for the visual.” I was poised to leave when Walter shuffled into the room, tucking his shirt into his pants, his thinning brown hair slightly disheveled. “Are you okay?” I asked, concerned by his pallid complexion. “Jim says you’re…uh…feeling a little under the weather today?”
“I’m fine,” he insisted with an impatient gesture, easing his corpulent frame into the chair. “Probably that chili I ate for lunch yesterday at the bowling alley.” As if to affirm that, he let out a loud belch. “Excuse me. Sorry.”
“Dude!” Jim admonished him, feigning disgust. “Get it together. You’re a festival of bodily noises today.”
“Stuff it, Sykes,” he retorted with good humor, obviously enjoying their customary banter before returning his attention to me. “No worries here.”
I hoped not. “Got a few minutes?”
One hand strayed to his abdomen and he winced, “Sure thing.”
I filled him in on the situation, suggested that he read my article and then contact Sheriff Turnbull or Duane Potts later for more information on the two previous deaths. As I talked, I couldn’t help but notice beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and tiny alarm bells clanged in my head. Was he really just suffering from indigestion or something more serious?
“Will do!” Walter concurred with a strained smile. “Now you get out of here and go enjoy yourself. Lavelle and I will catch up with you later at the cookout.”
“See you both there.” I only got about six steps along the hallway when I heard running footsteps from behind. I glanced around just as Walter pounded past me and disappeared into the men’s room. Not an encouraging sign. As I slid into my car, I had to counsel myself against giving in to my natural pessimism. Walter was going to be fine, nothing was going to mar my plans and that was that. Clinging to that thought, I dialed my brother’s cell number and drove towards the motel. After five rings, I heard his sleepy response. “Wassup, sis?”
“Sean! Don’t tell me you’re not out of bed yet?”
A loud yawn. “I’m getting there. Wait for me in mom and dad’s room while I grab a quick shower.”
“Well, hurry up, bro. It’s after nine and I’m starving!”
“When aren’t you starving?” he said with a droll laugh. “Give me fifteen.”
It was a pleasant surprise to find my parents sitting on the stone bench in the cactus garden fronting the motel. They waved and smiled as I parked. Even though I imagined the temperature was still in the high fifties, the sunshine felt warm on my back as I walked up to them and exchanged hugs. While we stood beneath a dome of flawless blue sky, my parents once again celebrated the beautiful weather, praised their accommodations and complimented me on my outfit. My picky mother proclaimed that she had slept well, but my dad admitted he’d had a long night after refusing another pain pill. As we made our way to the car, he grilled me for details concerning Marcelene’s daughter and expressed surprise that I’d passed on pursuing the story further.
“It may have just been an unfortunate accident,” I reminded him, holding the crutches as he eased into the front seat.
He turned and pinned me with a quizzical look. “Always remember to follow your gut, Pumpkin.”
“I do, Dad, believe me.”
Good to his word, Sean strolled up, joking, “Hey, people, what’s the hold up? Are we going to eat today or not?”
I felt a measure of relief that everyone appeared to be in good spirits. Following the short drive to the Iron Skillet, we piled out of the car and were greeted by the mouth-watering aroma of frying bacon as we pushed through the heavy glass doors. It was encouraging to note that the breakfast crowd had mostly thinned out as we entered. Good thing. I was in no mood to wait. Even though I’d hoped to avoid it, well-meaning residents, eager to meet my parents, buttonholed us as we weaved our way among the tables. Another ten stomach-growling minutes passed until we were finally seated at a corner table where my dad could comfortably stretch out his booted foot.
While I adored the café’s scrumptious food, the predictable zing of irritation surged through me as Lucinda Johns approached our table, menus in hand, wearing her usual skintight jeans. Sean caught my eye and winked. I’d already told them all about my nemesis—the busty, dark-haired woman who had unsuccessfully pursued Tally for thirty years. I’m positive she’d intended to ensconce herself at the ranch after the death of his wife, but then I’d unexpectedly entered the picture and thwarted her plans. However, I had to give her credit for being tenacious. She’d cleverly befriended Ronda and even gone so far as to board her horse at the Starfire thereby giving her a ready excuse to hang around. More recently, she’d hooked up with one of the new ranch hands, but I wondered if their relationship was genuine or merely a smokescreen so she could continue stalking Tally.
She issued us what I recognized as a synthetic smile and insisted that I introduce her to each family member. I did so reluctantly. “Well, folks, we’re mighty glad to have you join us for breakfast at the Iron Skillet!” Leaning over, she provocatively flaunted ample cleavage while passing menus all around. “We got the best food in town and I highly recommend our award-winning biscuits and gravy.”
Dad made a monumental effort to stay focused on her face as he laid his menu down on the red vinyl tablecloth. “Sounds good. I’ll take you up on that.”
Her attempt to ingratiate herself with my family really pissed me off and I glared daggers at her when she crooned, “Kendall, it’s always so great to see you!” The glint of malice in her dark eyes negated her syrupy demeanor. Redirecting her attention to the others she asked sweetly, “Coffee, anyone?”
I knew her too well. She could go from zero to bitch in five seconds. Fuming inwardly, I forced a congenial tone. “Coffee for everyone, thanks.”
“Oh, and I’ll have a double…I mean, a big glass of orange juice, please,” Sean murmured, his mesmerized gaze zeroed in on her enormous breasts. I could just picture her in the kitchen gathering those puppies together, pushing them up and then pulling her top down for maximum effect. Insufferable cow. As she slinked away from the table, waving her substantial behind at us, I turned and caught my mother’s narrowed look of disapproval and my dad’s expres
sion of suppressed amusement.
“Oh man!” Sean whispered, mischief dancing in his eyes. “She is just like you described her…only better! Please tell me those Winnebagos are real.”
“Apparently they are,” I answered dryly. “Try to maintain, okay? And for your information, baby brother, she’s a good ten years older than you are.”
“Whatever. For a cougar, she’s smokin’ hot.”
I made a face at him. “Shut up.”
My mother glowered at him. “Sean, really? Is this any kind of conversation to be having at the breakfast table?”
“Just asking,” he replied, feigning innocence. “You gotta admit they were hard to ignore.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have been staring,” she snapped, her lips pinched white with irritation. “Can’t you see that’s very demeaning to women?”
Sean eyed her with incredulity. “If she didn’t want me to notice her ginormous boobs she wouldn’t have put ’em right out there.”
“Ginormous?” she repeated sarcastically. “What kind of stupid language is that anyway? Is it even a proper word?”
Being a language arts professor, she’d always been a stickler for correct grammar usage, and it was obvious Sean was deliberately baiting her. Ever the peacemaker, my dad intervened with a soft sigh of exasperation. “Enough. Sean, stop goading your mother and Alana, we’re all aware of how important the women’s rights baloney is among your fellow professors on campus, so can you two please knock it off?”
Hiding her annoyance, my mother fluffed her ash blonde hair looking chastened, but Sean’s eyes still twinkled with mirth. If there was to be a truce, I feared it would be only temporary.
While waiting for our food, we chatted about safe subjects like the weather, scenery, the engagement party and how my dad wanted to handle the tour of the ranch. When breakfast arrived everyone dug in with gusto, myself included. The western omelet stuffed with ham, cheese and green peppers, topped with a generous portion of spicy salsa went perfectly with three homemade biscuits slathered with butter and jelly. Sheer heaven.
Not wishing to give her the opportunity to flash my brother several more times, I had my credit card ready when Lucinda dropped the bill on the table. She scooped it up and when she returned moments later I could have gladly choked her when she airily informed us, “See you all later at the Starfire.”
What? Who the hell invited her? Dumbfounded, I said, “I…uh…wasn’t aware that you were coming.”
Her cheesy grin was nothing short of sanctimonious. “Well, of course I’m going to be there! You and your intended need to work on communication skills, girl! My goodness, doesn’t he tell you anything?” Her expression switched from patronizing to dreamy. “What was I supposed to do when Tally called and begged for my help? I couldn’t very well say no, now could I?”
Really? Begged? If that actually happened, why would he not tell me? Smug bitch! Her deliberate attempt to belittle me in front of my family sent my blood pressure rocketing to the boiling point as I struggled to keep the impressive list of expletives whirling in my head from exiting my mouth.
Defusing what could have escalated into an ugly scene, my easygoing dad flicked me an insightful look and quickly interjected with a benign, “We’re all looking forward to the barbeque.”
“You have yourselves a real fun day now!” Throwing me one last spiteful glance, she beamed an angelic smile at Sean and my dad before she disappeared through the swinging kitchen door.
Her voice filled with wonder, my mom shook her head slowly. “My goodness! You were spot-on, Kendall. That is one obnoxious young woman.”
I hadn’t realized how tense my shoulders were until that moment. “Obnoxious isn’t a strong enough word.”
“Gotta give you credit for holding your temper, Pumpkin,” my dad said with a chuckle, grabbing for his crutches. “I don’t know which is redder, your face or this tablecloth.”
“If I had to bet, I’m going to go with her face,” Sean teased as we all rose and moved towards the door.
The remainder of the morning went smoothly—a vast improvement over the rocky beginning. It was a kick chauffeuring them around Castle Valley, showing them the various points of interest and stopping often for photo opportunities. And it was enlightening to view the town through the prism of new eyes, remembering how foreign the desert had looked to me and how difficult it had been adjusting to the harsh environment. At the same time, however, I was bothered by the notion that Tally had invited Lucinda to the barbeque and neglected to tell me. I consoled myself with the thought that there had to be a good explanation, or she was lying through her teeth just to get a rise out of me. Either way, it was irritating.
It was close to one o’clock when we finally headed out into the open desert—a spectacular sight all dressed out in cheerful afternoon sunlight, complemented by an unblemished sky of pure sapphire. Windows down, brisk air blowing my hair, I pointed out the names of more desert foliage and several nearby mountains as we bounced along Lost Canyon Road, finally pulling up in front of the rustic ranch house. “This is it!” We all got out and I helped my dad with his crutches.
“Awesome,” breathed Sean, staring up at the mammoth sandstone pillar of Castle Rock towering above the desert floor.
My mother stepped out and turned in a slow circle. “It’s quite…desolate. Aren’t you afraid to live out here by yourself?” she remarked to me, appearing apprehensive.
“Not really. I feel pretty safe,” I answered, digging my .38 caliber handgun from my purse. “Because I’ve got this now.”
Sean gave me a thumbs-up. “Way to go, Kenny!”
My mother’s eyes widened in horror and she stepped back. “Good God! Is that real?”
“Don’t panic, Mom, and yes, it’s real.” She’d always been terrified of guns and refused to allow any in the house. “Tally bought it for me last month. We’ve been target shooting several times and I’m getting to be a pretty decent shot.” Actually he had insisted that I learn how to use a weapon because of what he termed, my propensity for getting myself into life-threatening situations.
“Well, good for you, honey,” my dad said with an approving nod, while my mom kept staring at me as if I’d lost my mind before requesting that I please put it away. Oh, dear. She already harbored the notion that Tally was a corrupting influence on me. Had I just added to the list of negatives she’d already built up in her mind? Would meeting him in person finally dispel some of her reservations? I sure hoped so.
I unlocked the front door and waved them inside. Dad and Sean were immediately taken by Marmalade, who responded to the unexpected attention by purring, rolling around on the floor and then racing madly through the house. Because of her allergies, my mother kept her distance and held a tissue against her nose. But everyone liked the house, and my dad could not stop talking about how much he loved the wide-open spaces of Arizona. “I could definitely get used to this,” he announced, turning his head in all directions as we all trooped out to the car. “This is about as far from city life as you could get.”
I smiled at him. “Wait until you see the Starfire.” Twenty minutes later, we turned onto Quail Crossing and cruised along the freshly graded dirt road flanked by miles of range fencing. Off in the distance a herd of cattle grazed on winter grass.
Sean let out a long whistle. “Man, how many acres does this dude have?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but a couple of thousand at least and he leases thousands more from the BLM for grazing the cattle.” I noticed the thoughtful expression on my mother’s face in the rearview mirror. “Well, my dear, it appears you are poised to become quite the landowner,” she murmured, staring off into the distance.
Her judicious choice of words was her way of pointing out that I was about to marry into a well-heeled family, which I still couldn’t quite believe. Of course, she had no idea of the cost of running
such a large cattle and horse ranch.
“It’s going to be a very different life for me,” I admitted. Moments after driving beneath the Starfire ranch entrance sign, Tally’s two-story, white house jumped into view along with the three cottages occupied by the hired help. To our right stood the two imposing horse barns along with a half a dozen horse trailers parked close to the maze of corrals. A small herd of Appaloosa horses grazed behind the white piped fencing that surrounded the property. In the clearing between the house and barns, several ranch hands were erecting the large white tent Tally had borrowed from the Whispering Winds Resort. Adjacent to it were stacks of tables and chairs, at least two dozen outdoor patio heaters, a portable dance floor, bar and risers for the band. Wow. Tally had really gone all out.
As I parked beside Tally’s extended cab pickup near the house, my dad roared with laughter as he read the prominent bumper stickers: WELCOME TO ARIZONA. NOW GO HOME! A second one read: EAT MORE BEEF! THE WEST WASN’T WON ON SALADS. “That’s a little insight into Tally’s character,” I informed them with a grin.
“Pretty clever,” my dad remarked as everyone else joined in the merriment. “I think I’m gonna like this guy!”
I glanced back at the still doubtful gleam in my mother’s eyes and held fast to the belief that Tally would eventually win her over. And then I thought about Ruth’s unpredictable nature. That was going to be a tough sell indeed.
CHAPTER
7
The slamming car doors ignited a chorus of barking as all four dogs raced around the corner of the yard towards us. It was a pretty intimidating sight, so I dropped to one knee. “Come say hello to everybody, boys!” One by one they sniffed and circled, greeting each family member with thrashing tails and joyous whimpering. Always vying for extra attention, Atilla, the black Doberman, licked me in the face so hard, I almost fell over backwards.
