The Tycoon

by Anna Jeffrey

  “Where’s Miss Kate?” the Ranger asked.

  “Back at the Double-Barrel, still recuperating. We didn’t wake her before we came over. We figured she needed the rest.”

  “We’ll have to talk to her,” Blake said. He paused, then added with a no-nonsense tone. “Pretty soon.”

  Drake nodded, accepting that his old friend had to do his job. “No problem, Blake. Any

  blatant clues what happened here?”

  The Ranger shook his head. “Not yet. We’re sure it was set, but that’s about all so far.”

  “Can you think of anybody who’d benefit from this fire?” Carl Barlow asked. “Other than your sister?”

  “Don’t go there, buddy” Drake said firmly. “Kate’s broken-hearted. Money won’t replace what she’s lost. She would’ve died last night if her neighbor hadn’t dragged her out.”

  “It’s a question that has to be asked,” Barlow said.

  “You better not ask our little sister,” Pic said. “She might claw your eyes out. Those horses were just about as close to kids as she’s ever had.”

  Just then the bleat of his cell caught Drake’s attention. He grabbed it, checked the screen and saw that the caller was none other than Mom. He keyed into the call. Their mother informed him she was in Camden, headed for the Double-Barrel.

  Drake’s jaw tightened. If she went to the ranch and learned that Dad was nowhere to be found and had been gone for a week, she would be royally pissed off. If she came here to Kate’s house, Kate would probably be pissed. Drake made a quick decision similar to those he had made in the past when it came to dealing with his family. A pissed-off Kate was easier to handle than a pissed-off Betty Lockhart, so he said to his mother, “Why don’t you come on out to Kate’s place? That’s where we are right now.”

  “Mom, huh?” Pic said after Drake disconnected.

  “She’s on her way. And she’s going to want to know why Dad isn’t with us.”

  “We’ll just tell her he had to go up to Fort Worth for some reason. Let Dad explain to her why he isn’t here.”

  Their mother soon arrived. She alit from her Cadillac SUV wrapped in a gray cape that nearly touched the ground. She broke into tears when she saw the devastation. “Who are all these people?” she asked tearfully, looking around. “Where’s my Kathryn?”

  “Asleep at the Double-Barrel,” Drake answered, offering her his handkerchief. “She hasn’t seen this in the daylight and Pic and I didn’t want her to come over here.”

  Their mother took the handkerchief, removed her black leather gloves and wiped her eyes. “My God, it’s cold. Where’s your father?”

  “Dad had to go up to Fort Worth,” Pic said before Drake could spill the lie. “Nobody’s been able to reach him. You know how he is about his cell. It’s probably turned off or it’s not charged.

  Their mother looked at him with disbelief. Her breath emitted little puffs of vapor. Like steam, Drake thought. She wasn’t fooled for a minute.

  “He’s probably with some floozy,” she growled. “If that’s what he’s doing, I’ll kill him. He should be here. Someone needs to keep all of these people in line. This is a horrible situation. Someone needs to take control.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ve got this,” Drake told her.

  Drake refrained from voicing his thoughts. Dad taking control might or might not be a joke. Even if he were here, it wouldn’t be unusual for a brawl between him and Mom to erupt and take precedence over the “horrible situation.”

  The Ranger approached again and lifted off his hat. “Mrs. Lockhart. Nice to see you. How are you this chilly morning?”

  “Not well, Blake. Not well at all.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her fingers.”

  “I understand, ma’am.”

  “How did this happen, Blake?”

  “We’re all doing our best to find out.”

  “I’m sure you are. I’m sure you are. Thank God for friends like you.”

  The Ranger turned to Pic. “How soon do you think we can talk to Miss Kate?”

  Drake caught Pic’s gaze. Pic glanced at his watch. “I guess we can call and see if she’s awake.”

  Drake said to Blake, “She was pretty shook up over losing those horses. We want to spare her seeing this until we can get the horses out of here and buried. Instead of having her come here, maybe we could go over to the Double-Barrel.”

  “I’ll see if that’s okay with Carl,” the Ranger said and walked away.

  But before he returned, another truck wended up the caliche driveway. “Oh, hell,” Pic said. “That’s Will’s truck. And there’s two people in it.”

  Drake made a mental groan. He started forward to intercept them, but before he reached the truck, it came to a stop and Kate clambered down from the passenger side. She headed for the fire site.

  “Kate, wait—”

  “Get out of my way, Drake.”

  Mom quick-stepped around him and enveloped Kate in a smothering hug. Kate pushed her away and looked at her. “What are you doing here, Mama?

  Mom hung onto Kate’s arms, not letting her move. “I’m here to help you, darling. This is horrible. You need support from those of us who love you.”

  To Drake, his sister looked somehow smaller. She looked up at Pic, her eyes accusing and glistening with fresh tears. “Where’s Daddy, Pic?”

  “Fort Worth,” Pic answered quickly.

  Before he had to say more, the Ranger and the arson investigator approached Kate. “Miss Kate,” Blake said, lifting his hat.

  “Hi, Blake,” she said.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you when you’re so upset, but we do need to ask you some questions.”

  She nodded, looking down. Will looped a supportive arm around her shoulders. Blake and the arson investigator questioned her about when she first knew of the fire and what she did thereafter. Between bouts of tears, she told that the groom who usually slept in the small apartment attached to the barn had stayed in Fort Worth with the horses that had competed in the futurity. She had been asleep, but was awakened by the commotion in the barn and the smell of smoke. The barn was already heavily involved and on the verge of collapse. She was able to save eight horses, but couldn’t save all of them. At that, she broke down and sobbed. Mom closed her into an embrace and Kate gave no resistance.

  The two investigators apologized and backed away, but not before asking her not to go near the fire site and not to leave town.

  “Have you eaten, sweetheart?” Mom asked. “Can I make you some coffee? Or tea?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, I—”

  “That’s a good idea, Kate,” Drake said. “Go in the house with Mom and let us finish up.”

  Chapter 15

  As soon as Kate and their mother disappeared into Kate’s house, Drake turned on his brother. “Dammit, Pic, you must know somebody in Drinkwell who knows where Dad is. Mom’s right. He needs to be here.”

  Pic bristled. “He doesn’t discuss his social activities with me. And I know damn well he wouldn’t like me nosing into them. He’s not a kid, forcrissake. He’s fifty-three years old.”

  “Then he needs to stop acting like he’s seventeen,” Drake said. “Get on the horn and see if you can find him.”

  “You know, if you had to deal with some of his and Mom’s crap yourself—”

  “I hear plenty of it from Mom’s end. This is no time for a debate. Let’s just find out where he is.”

  “Goddammit.” Pic mumbled, shaking his head. But he unhooked his cell phone from his belt. “I’ll make some calls.”

  Drake watched the activity around the fire site while Pic made calls, which seemed to go on forever. Finally, Pic hooked his phone back on his belt. “Maybe I found him. Perry Jenkins said Mona Luck’s been calling around. She wants somebody to come get him out of her house.”

  Perry Jenkins owned the only bar in Drinkwell. Was Mona Luck the woman Mom’s friend had reported Dad sleeping with? Drake vaguely remembered Mona. He tho
ught she was married. Releasing a great sigh, he clapped a hand against Pic’s shoulder. “Come on, Little Brother. Let’s go see what our daddy’s been up to.”

  “I’m against this,” Pic groused, stalking toward his truck. “It’s been a long time since you’ve enjoyed one of these episodes, Drake. You’ve forgot just how damned unpleasant it is.”

  Drake didn’t react to his brother’s criticism. He knew Pic’s real thorn was that Drake still held equal sway in ranch decisions though he hadn’t lived here for years. Pic climbed behind the steering wheel and fired the engine. Drake took the passenger seat. Then, leaving a rooster tail of caliche dust behind them, they were barreling toward the county road that would take them to Drinkwell,

  At the county road, Pic made a quick right turn and sped toward town, twenty miles away. Once inside the city limits, he drove unerringly to one of Drinkwell’s few organized neighborhoods. He crept along the narrow streets until he arrived at a redbrick single-story house, its lawn turned beige by winter. The windows were trimmed in white and Christmas lights were strung along white gutters. The place was so shuttered, it appeared no one was at home, but their father’s work truck was parked in the driveway.

  “You found this place pretty easy,” Drake said. “I take it you’ve been here before.”

  “I picked him up here a couple of other times.”

  Drake wanted no more information than that. “How long did they say he’s been here?”

  “They didn’t. He doesn’t leave his itinerary with anybody, you know. Sometimes he goes to town for something and just doesn’t come back. Like Monday. The whole damn thing’s Mom’s fault. She called him Monday afternoon, he yelled into the phone, then he hung up and left.”

  Inwardly Drake groaned, remembering his breakfast with their mother on Monday. Had she told Dad she planned on going to Santa Fe for the Christmas holiday? That could have been enough to send him off on a toot, especially if she told him she was going with a man.

  They sat in front of the squatty house in silence for a couple more minutes, neither of them

  eager to enter someone’s home and drag their father out. Finally, Pic said, “You going in with me or are you waiting out here?”

  Drake sighed. “I’ll go.”

  They scooted out of the SUV and walked to the front door together. Pic pressed the doorbell. After a few beats, the door flung open and they were face to face with a disheveled blonde who could have been forty or sixty. She wore bright red lips and a flimsy yellow robe. A cigarette was propped between two manicured fingers of one hand. “I hope to hell you’ve come to pick up your ol’ man.” she snapped.

  “Hi, Miz Luck,” Pic said.

  “It’s about damned time you got here.” She stepped back and allowed them inside the house that was dark as a cave. Little daylight found its way through the closed drapes and blinds. “Five days of this shit is enough I can’t stand him when he gets so goddamn drunk.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pic mumbled.

  “Where is he?” Drake asked her.

  “In bed.”

  She led them down a dark narrow hallway, the stench of stale alcohol and unwashed bodies filling the space around them. Drake silently vowed this was the last time he would ever do this.

  They reached a small bedroom where Bill Lockhart, who was as tall as Drake and as bulky as Pic, filled a double bed, his body and head hidden by covers. Rhythmic loud snores rumbled from beneath the covers. Like a heavy tapestry, the odor of sweat and alcohol hung even more pronounced in the tiny bedroom.

  “Jesus Christ,” Drake muttered.

  “Goddamn,” Pic growled. He walked over to the bed, bent down and shook their father’s shoulder. “Dad?...Dad, wake up. It’s me, Pic.”

  Their father snorted and grumbled, but didn’t awaken.

  Mona came to the doorway and leaned a shoulder against the jamb, her arms crossed under her breasts. “You ain’t gonna wake him up. I already tried. He’s out cold. You’re gonna have to carry his ass outta here.”

  Drake shot her a look. “He’s been here five days?”

  “Yeah. But he’s only been out of it for a couple.”

  “What’s he been doing for the other three?”

  A lurid grin curved up one corner of the woman’s mouth and Drake instantly wished he hadn’t asked the question.

  “Well…when he ain’t too drunk, he can be a lot of fun, if you know what I mean. For an old fart, he can—”

  “That’s enough,” Drake said.

  He did not consider his fifty-three old father an old fart. Disgusted, Drake turned back to where Pic had him sitting on the edge of the bed. Somehow Pic had gotten him dressed.

  “Where’s his coat?” Drake asked Mona.

  She left the room and soon returned with a brown barn coat. Together, Drake and Pic wrestled their dad into it. Then Pic leaned his shoulder into the older man’s midsection, gripped his dangling arm and hoisted him over his back as if he were a sack of oats. He jostled and settled the load. “Okay, I got him. Glad he’s lost a little weight.” He staggered up the hall toward the front door.

  “Where’s his stuff?” Drake asked Mona.

  “What stuff?” she asked indignantly.

  “His truck keys and wallet. His hat. His boots and belt. Including the buckle.”

  If their father wasn’t working at the ranch, he wore custom-made boots for which he paid thousands. No doubt, even worn, they would fetch a pretty penny on eBay. He also wore a hand-tooled belt with a sterling silver buckle on which a solid gold longhorn’s head was embedded inside a circle of emeralds. In happier times, their mother had had it made as a present.

  Mona’s bloodshot eyes shot daggers at him a few seconds, then she stamped to the corner at the end of the dresser, jerked the boots up and slammed them on top of the dresser with a loud thunk. She grabbed his wallet off the dresser and stuffed it into one of the boot shafts.

  “The belt and buckle,” Drake reminded her.

  She yanked open a top dresser drawer, produced the two items and shoved them, too, into a boot shaft.

  “Thanks,” Drake said, pulling the wallet out of the shaft and thumbing through it. He found no cash. Surprise, surprise. The credit card slots were full, but Drake didn’t know how many credit cards his dad usually carried. “I suppose his wallet was empty when he got here.”

  “Eat shit,” Mona said, her lips curled into a sneer.

  Spearing her with a don’t-mess-with-me glower, Drake stuffed the wallet back into the boot shaft.

  “What the hell did you expect?” she snapped. “He ate everything in the fuckin’ kitchen. Drunk my whiskey, too. I’m entitled to—”

  Drake stopped her with a finger pointed at her nose. “If you kept a credit card, don’t make the mistake of trying to use it. I’ll have your ass arrested and be assured, I’ll prosecute.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I know Tom Gilmore better than you do, hot shot.”

  “Hey, Drake, come on,” Pic called from up the hall. “He’s heavy.”

  “Where’s his truck keys?” Drake asked Mona.

  Mona stomped up the hallway. Drake followed her, carrying the boots and pausing to open the front door for Pic to pass through with his load. Inside the kitchen, soiled dishes and scraps of food littered the counters, including a cardboard pizza box and the remains of a pizza. A pile of dirty dishes filled the sink. Mona sorted through the clutter on the counter, found the keys and thrust them at Drake. “Here, pretty boy.”

  Drake took the keys. “Don’t forget what I said about that credit card.” He reached for his own wallet, pulled out a couple of C-notes and dropped them on the counter. “For your trouble,” he said, then walked out of the kitchen.

  “Don’t you ever come to my house again, you big-shot bastard,” Mona shouted behind him. “And tell your sonofabitchin’ ol’ man not to come back here, either. If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s some ol’ fucker that can’t hold his liquor and can’t keep it up. Money don’t
cure either one of those problems.”

  Jaw clenched, Drake walked outside where Pic struggled to open the back door of his crew cab with one hand. Drake quickstepped to the truck, opened the back door and Pic unfolded their father onto the backseat.

  They started back toward the Double-Barrel, with Drake following in their father’s truck. At the ranch house, they tussled the older man out of the backseat and walked him into the house, ignoring his snorts and rumbles. Once in his bedroom, they undressed him and helped him into his king size bed.

  “He’ll be out of it ’til tomorrow,” Pic said, once they had him settled.

  “With any luck, Mom won’t come to visit before he sobers up,” Drake said. They left the bedroom, both of them peeling off their coats. “I don’t miss this crap,” he added.

  “I’d like the chance not to miss it myself,” Pic said as they reached the back porch and hung their coats on the steer horn coat tree by the back door. They headed for the kitchen and the coffee pot. “But unless he can talk Mom into coming back, I don’t see it getting any better. He says nothing’s worthwhile without her.”

  “Does he think this kind of stuff is going to get her to come back?”

  Pic dragged mugs out of the cupboard and poured coffee. “I wish he’d throw in the towel on Mom. She waltzes him around, Drake. She leads him on, telling him she’ll come back, then not doing it. She tells him she loves him, but she keeps living up there in Fort Worth and hanging out with her friends.”

  “Jesus,” Drake said again.

  “I’ll be damned if a woman will ever do anything like that to me again,” Pic said. “I had my turn, but at least I had enough sense to get out of it and stay out of it.”

  Drake called back the days when Pic had caught his ex-wife and a lover in a cheap motel in Fort Worth. A nasty divorce had followed. Drake kept his silence. Another day, he might have gouged his brother with how much it had cost for Pic to “get out of it.” But not today.

  “Oh, well.” Pic shrugged. “Maybe they can get it worked out over Christmas, right? How many times have we said that now?”

  Drake shook his head, unhappy to be delivering news Pic didn’t want to hear. “She’s not coming down here for Christmas.”