Somebody to Love

by Unknown

  The trio of nurses crept closer into the room. Zoey wrung her hands. Even Jericho’s muscles tensed as the story stirred his own fight-or-flight response. He was on that mountain. He was Little Wolf and Zoey was Clarissa and damn, why was he being so fanciful? It wasn’t the least bit scientific.

  “The men were almost upon them. They could hear them crashing through the trees. Clarissa and Little Wolf looked at each other, shared one last kiss, vowed their undying love for each other throughout eternity, held each other’s hands, and jumped off the mountain.”

  “Eeep!” cried Zoey.

  “To their deaths?” gasped one of the nurses.

  Granny Helen cocked her head. “Well, you don’t jump off a mountain to your life, now do you?”

  Jericho snorted at her irreverence. That and the fact the story was so miserably sad he didn’t want to dwell on it. A dismissive snort seemed in order. Now he remembered why he’d forgotten this story Granny Helen had told when he was a kid. It was simply too damn sad. He also understood why this particular tale wasn’t more widely circulated in the community. This legend didn’t hold the upbeat optimism that was inherent in the Cupid legend. No wonder Millie Greenwood’s story, where true love conquered all, had stomped this one out of the local lore.

  “The villagers were so guilty and ashamed of what they’d done that they burned down their own settlement and the families scattered to the wind …” Granny Helen’s voice trailed off.

  “That’s horrible,” said the second nurse. “Just horrible.”

  “Forgetting your own name ninety percent of the time is what’s horrible,” Granny Helen said. “At least Little Wolf and Clarissa got to be together.”

  “But only in death,” Zoey protested. “It’s so unfair.”

  Granny shrugged. “Better than never having loved at all. The real moral of the story is that you should take love when and where you can find it because none of us know how long we have left.”

  Everyone murmured in agreement over that.

  Zoey touched Granny Helen’s arm. “Thank you for telling us the story.”

  “Come see me again,” she said. “I have a bunch more stories to tell. If my memory holds out.”

  Jericho stood up, tucked the beaded medallion back into his pocket. “We will, Granny, I promise.”

  “You’re a good boy, Joe,” she said, calling him by his grandfather’s name and patting her cheek with her curled hand, the clarity already fading from her eyes.

  He wished he could have known her when she was young and vibrant. They said their good-byes to Granny Helen. Zoey was unusually quiet as they walked outside.

  “That was some story,” he said.

  Zoey stopped walking. The wind picked up her hair, blew the strands lightly across her face. “Jericho, do you mind if I stay in town for the rest of the day? I’ll drive myself back up to Triangle Mount in the morning.”

  His hopes nosedived. Had Granny Helen’s story about best-friends-turned-lovers leaping off a mountain given her second thoughts about deepening their relationship? But their situation was completely different from that of Little Wolf and Clarissa. She had to know that.

  He touched her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  She forced a smile. “I’m fine, really.”

  “It’s just a fable, Zoey. Nothing true about it.”

  “Except for the beaded medallion we found on the medicine bundle.”

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for that.”

  “Yes, and the explanation is that you very well could be descended from Little Wolf.”

  “Little Wolf died, remember? If he indeed ever existed.”

  “Well, not a direct descendant of Little Wolf, obviously, but from his family lineage.”

  “According to Granny Helen, all the Keepers of the Flame died in the plague.”

  “That could be an exaggeration for story sake or maybe your great-grandmother doesn’t know for sure. Maybe there were members of the community who were off on a hunting party when all this went down.”

  “We weren’t able to find any documentation about this Keepers of the Flame sect in our research. Not a footnote, not a passing reference, not a whisper.”

  “We just dug up proof,” Zoey said.

  “The tomahawk and medicine bundle haven’t been fully analyzed. We can’t jump to conclusions. We need solid evidence to prove the theory.”

  “Science over gut instinct, huh?”

  “When you’re an archaeologist, yes, always.”

  “I guess that’s my lesson for today.”

  They stood there a moment, looking at each other. Something was going on in that mysterious brain of hers, but damn if he knew what it was.

  “Zoe-Eyes, is there anything you want to share with me?”

  “Not yet,” she said.

  “You know you can tell me anything.”

  “I know … it’s …”

  “That story unnerved you.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you want a ride to the B&B?”

  “I’m good. I don’t mind walking.”

  It was ninety-five degrees and a two-mile hike to the B&B; why was she turning down a ride? Was she that ready to put some distance between them?

  Feeling shut out, but determined not to show that he was hurt, Jericho nodded. “All right. I’m going back to the hospital to check on Avery and then call Braden to see how he and his family are holding up. I’ll see you back at camp tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” she said cheerfully and gave him a soft punch on the shoulder like she used to do when they were kids, but he couldn’t help feeling it was a desperate attempt to put things back the way they used to be.

  THE MINUTE JERICHO was out of sight, Zoey turned and headed toward the Cupid Museum, which was just a couple of blocks north of the retirement home. She had a gnawing feeling deep in her gut that she couldn’t really articulate. The thought was at the back of her mind, heavy as a velvet curtain. A thought she did not want to think. But even so, she knew she had to do this for her peace of mind. She wasn’t ready to tell Jericho about it. Not until she confirmed her nagging suspicion.

  It was a quarter after two when she arrived at the museum. A few tourists were wandering around the displays. Tabitha was behind the counter, this time dipping apple slices in caramel sauce.

  “Hi,” Zoey said breathlessly.

  “What’s going on up at Triangle Mount?” Tabitha asked. “I’ve heard rumors of el hombre vestido de negro sightings and ice pick accidents and heart attacks and cursed Native American artifacts.”

  “Nothing but gossip.” Zoey waved a breezy hand. Clearly someone had disobeyed Jericho’s edict to keep lips zipped, but he had anticipated as much. “How are things on the Cupid letter committee?”

  “Fine, fine, they miss you.”

  “Who?”

  “The volunteers.”

  “Really?” That surprised her.

  “All they can talk about is how proud they are of you for digging in your heels and sticking with this field school thing.”

  Well, that was nice to hear.

  “Wait, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you up on Triangle Mount?”

  “Mmm, well …” She grasped for an excuse.

  Tabitha narrowed her eyes. “Did you quit? Walker’s gonna cut off your trust.”

  “No, no, not at all,” Zoey rushed to say. “I’ve just been thinking about what you said when I was here before.”

  “What was that?”

  “That I should know my family history and that you have the McCleary family tree archived here.”

  “Sure we do. You do know that the McClearys were in Jeff Davis County long before the Fants, right?”

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t know that. The Fant side loves to say how they were the first family of Cupid.”

  “Of Cupid, maybe, but there were McClearys in the Trans-Pecos when the Fants were back in Baltimore.”

  “Could I see that book with
the McCleary family tree?” Zoey asked.

  “Hang on. I can do you one better.” Tabitha popped the last caramel-dipped apple slice in her mouth, chewed industriously. She wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and hopped off her stool. “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  The doorbell tinkled as tourists drifted out. Zoey went over to the showcase in the center of the room that housed Great-Great-Uncle August’s formulary. Would the medicine bundle they’d found be on display here one day? The thought raised goose bumps on her arms. She thought of her ancestors both Fant and McCleary and how they’d formed their corner of far southwest Texas. Would Universal Studios actually make a movie of Cousin Walker’s book? A thrill rippled underneath the goose bumps at the possibility.

  While she waited for Tabitha, she again studied that odd doodle at the corner of the page of August McCleary’s medicinal recipe. It reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The part of her brain that loved puzzles mentally turned the doodle on its side, and then upside down.

  “Here we go,” Tabitha said, coming back into the room with a large rolled-up chart in her hand. She unrolled it on the wooden counter, the bangle bracelets at her wrist clanging together as she did so and anchoring the four sides with a stapler, an empty coffee mug, a tape dispenser, and an e-reader. She crooked a finger at Zoey, indicating she should come on the sacred side of the counter, and clicked the chain on a green banker’s light that cast a rectangular yellow glow over the McCleary family lineage.

  “As you can see here …” Tabitha tapped a forefinger against the chart that Zoey noticed had been painted mauve with a slapdash hand. The scent of caramel hung in the air. “Zachariah McCleary came to Jeff Davis County in 1793. If you want to know where Zachariah came from before that, ask your cousin Walker. While researching A Time to Heal he did the McCleary genealogy all the way back to Donegal County in Ireland.”

  “I think I’ve heard Walker mention that before.”

  “Have you read Walker’s book yet?”

  Zoey shook her head.

  “For shame! A book by your cousin, about your great-great-uncle, and you haven’t read it?” Tabitha clicked her tongue.

  “I’m a student. In school. Lots of textbooks to read,” Zoey said, reluctant to admit she had so much energy it was difficult for her to sit and read for any length of time.

  “Still, it’s your duty as a McCleary to read Walker’s book.”

  Zoey hung her head. “I will, I promise, but maybe I could just wait for the movie.”

  The older woman gave her a stern look. “Don’t be lazy. Read the book. Besides, Walker says movie deals are tenuous at best. They can fall through at the drop of a derby.”

  “Who do you think they should cast to play August?” Zoey asked to lighten things up. “Melody thinks it should be Colin Farrell.”

  Tabitha wrinkled her brow. “He’s got tattoos.”

  “So?”

  “When I was young only thugs had tattoos and your uncle August was not a thug.”

  Zoey resisted rolling her eyes. “Then who would be your pick?”

  “Me?” Tabitha’s cheeks pinked. “I’d cast Orlando Bloom.”

  “Interesting choice. You do know he has tattoos too.”

  “No!”

  “Just saying.” Zoey suppressed a grin.

  “Well, never mind that. Back to the reason you’re here.” Tabitha used a finger to trace the branches of the family tree. “Zachariah McCleary married Elspeth Osborn and they had five children, Edward, Gerald, Claudia, Catherine, and—”

  Zoey’s eyes had already run ahead of Tabitha’s tracing mauve fingernail and saw what she’d feared she was going to see as she’d sat in Granny Helen’s room listening to the tragic story of star-crossed love gone terribly wrong.

  Zachariah McCleary’s youngest daughter was named Clarissa.

  Chapter 16

  Backdirt: The soil excavated from test pits, typically used to refill them once the excavations are terminated.

  WHILE Zoey was learning about Clarissa McCleary, Jericho made a disturbing discovery of his own. He arrived at Triangle Mount to find a brand-new black Land Rover parked at the base of the flatiron and a man walking down from their campsite.

  From behind sunglasses, he squinted against the sun. Who was that?

  Jericho parked beside the Land Rover and got out. The man drew nearer, and he recognized Walker McCleary. Wariness knotted up tight in the lining of his belly. What was the pharmacist-turned-author doing here?

  “Ah, the illustrious Dr. Chance,” Walker called, and raised a hand in greeting.

  With heavy, forceful steps, the older man trod closer. He was dressed in chinos, a long-sleeved white shirt, black suspenders, and a black and white striped bow tie. Sweat was beaded across his beefy brow. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his face.

  “How’s the book business, Dr. McCleary?” Jericho asked smoothly, even though tension tightened his throat.

  “Very different.” Walker tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket, and came over to rest one booted foot on the bumper of Jericho’s truck. “Nothing like pharmaceuticals. Everyone needs drugs at some point in their lives, but books”—he shrugged—“a whole big chunk of the population doesn’t even read, or at least not regularly.”

  “And yet, you made the New York Times bestseller list with your first book.” Every muscle in his body was wiredrawn. What was Walker doing in their empty camp? “That’s pretty impressive, huh?”

  Zoey’s cousin canted his head. “I’m under no illusion about my writing abilities. I can cobble together decent copy, sure, but it’s August McCleary’s story that’s selling books. He was a fascinating, complicated guy.”

  “How so?”

  “The man had his personal demons. Went through a couple of divorces back when divorce was rare. Plus he had a penchant for cocaine, which might explain the divorces. Remember, cocaine was legal until 1914. But in spite of his problems, he was also a visionary ahead of his time and he literally saved the Trans-Pecos. If he hadn’t come up with the formula that quelled the Spanish flu in our area …” Walker shuddered. “Don’t even want to think about it.”

  “He also made the McClearys very wealthy in the process,” Jericho said dryly.

  A wide grin split Walker’s face and he dropped his foot back to the ground. “There is that.”

  “Looks like he’s still making you money.”

  “Gotta admire the man for that if nothing else.”

  Jericho stared at the older man and waited. When was he going to explain what he was doing up here alone?

  “So …” Walker slipped his thumbs underneath his suspenders, his elbows sticking out at his sides. “What’s going on with you and Zoey?”

  An electric tingle ran over Jericho’s nerve endings, and embedded with a jolt into the base of his brain. “Um, what do you mean?”

  “I’ve been hearing things.” Walker took a step toward him. “It’s why I came up here. To talk to you about her.”

  Jericho took off his sunglasses, tucked them into his front shirt pocket, and glowered. “What kind of things?”

  “You two have been seen together, looking …” Walker narrowed his eyes and did not look away. “Chummy.”

  “We are chums. Have been for a long time.”

  “And that’s all?”

  Jericho straightened tall, tipped his cowboy hat down on his brow. “I’m also her instructor.”

  Walker stroked his chin. “And nothing else?”

  “Nothing else.” He barely shook his head.

  “See.” Walker canted his head. “There’s one thing I never understood. Why you were nothing more than friends with Zoey. She’s a sexy, vibrant young woman and you’re four years older. Why haven’t you made a move on her?”

  He set his jaw. “That’s not really any of your business.”

  “That right there.” Walker held up a finger. “That’s what bothers me.
If there’s some reason you don’t find her attractive, why not just admit it?”

  For the longest moment, he did not respond. He didn’t know what was going on here and he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize Zoey’s trust fund. “Why are you being such a hard-ass with her?”

  “It’s time someone took a strong hand with her and since it’s looking like you’re not the man for the job, I stepped up to the plate. She’s been spoiled and pampered too long.”

  “You might be in control of her trust, but you don’t really know Zoey at all. She’s not spoiled or pampered. She’s the hardest-working member of my dig crew. She’s just so damn bright that it takes a lot to keep her mentally engaged, which makes her look impulsive and restless to regular people. I can’t believe her family does not realize that about her. She’s—” He bit off the words, belatedly realizing that the more vehemently he rose to her defense, the more he was undermining his assertion that they were nothing more than friends.

  Walker’s eyebrows went up. “I know I put the hammer down on Zoey with my ultimatum, but I really would hate to see her lose that trust.”

  “So lift the restrictions.” Jericho jutted out his chin.

  “Sorry, no can do.”

  “Why not?”

  “Even if she is as bright as you claim, she’s got to learn sometime that her actions have consequences.” Walker stuck his hands in his pockets, and then took them out again. “Besides, I don’t back down. Not when I take a stand. Not ever. Backing down shows weakness and I didn’t become the head of the McCleary clan by being weak.”

  “So you came up here to—”

  Walker puffed out his chest, stepped closer. “Make sure you didn’t cause her to throw away her fortune.”

  Jericho covered the remaining distance between them, glared down at the older man. “I want nothing except what’s best for her.”

  “Good,” Walker said. “Just as long as we understand each other.”

  “Message received,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Just in case his own conscience and his potential job loss wasn’t enough, Walker had shown up to underscore how precarious this whole situation with Zoey had become.