So, this was what was called ‘biting the bullet.’ Jake sucked in air. “Dad doesn’t know this. He doesn’t know any of what I’m going to tell you. And that’s part of my problem.”
Carrie gave a small nod of her head to say she understood.
“You remember Ty Sheldon?”
“Of course. At the Lone Star. There was something…unpleasant about him. I could never put my finger on it.”
“Well, I could. He’s into drugs—in a big way. He has them run up from Mexican border towns and sells them in Austin and San Antonio and other places.” He took a deep breath and gazed straight into her eyes. “Robbie was his partner.”
Her lips parted with a small gasp, and she leaned forward.
“For a time…” He breathed out slowly, finding the will to go on. “A girl he’d been seeing a while, Lucinda her name was, she got in trouble, pregnant. Robbie didn’t have enough money for an abortion, not a decent one anyway, and he knew Dad would go ballistic if he told him, force him to marry the girl. So he tied up with Ty, became his partner. He brought the drugs up from Mexico, and Ty sold them, that was the deal. He made enough money after one run to have Lucinda fixed. After that, it was, like, this is good money, so he made another couple of runs. Then one day, someone Ty had sold to crashed his car while high. It was in all the local papers—this kid was high on marijuana when he died.” Jake stopped a moment, as Carrie shook her head in consternation. “Robbie decided he wanted out, said he didn’t need the money anyway and Dad might eventually get suspicious. Like me, he didn’t want to hurt Dad. It was just…something that happened.”
“Was he…was he earning money outside of that at the time?”
The question hung in the air. Carrie must have known Robbie was only working at the ranch. “Dad paid him for work on the ranch if that’s what you want to know. We’re not prisoners here.” He shuffled a bit on his chair. “Dad’s always been fair with us—strict, but fair. Mom never had much to do with us once we grew past babies. It was always Dad we turned to, Dad who had the last word. When Robbie wanted to breed them Arabs, Dad gave him the go-ahead, encouraged him, and paid him pretty well for setting it all up and overseeing the whole operation. But Robbie liked to take Lucinda out, treat her well, and buy her stuff. Expensive stuff.” He shrugged, trying to recall all the ins and outs of what had happened, keep the story to the facts. “So, Robbie wanted out, but Ty threatened him. I think he threatened to tell Dad, in fact. That’s always been Ty’s game—he was always jealous of us and Dad when he and Robbie were hangin’ ’round together because his own Dad split when he was little.” He sat with his hand across his mouth for a moment considering this. “Well,” he continued, “at the same time, Dad was beginning to get on to Robbie about enlisting, ’cause of course every other man in this family has served since the beginning of time.” He snorted and sat back, grimacing a bit, before he blurted, “I encouraged Robbie to join to get the hell away from Ty.”
“Your father thinks…your father blames himself for Robbie joining, Jake. Why didn’t you ever tell him? He drank because of this. It eats him up when he thinks of it. Why would you let him go on like that?”
“How could I not? Dad would never believe Robbie would listen to me, take my advice, over his. ‘No, Dad, it was me who encouraged him to enlist’—just like that? Plain and simple? No. To tell him it was me who had encouraged Robbie to join meant I would have had to tell him the whole story, everything I just told you: the pregnancy, the drugs, the lot. Isn’t it better for him to think he encouraged a good son to join—which, as I say, every man in this family has done—rather than tell him all that crap about Robbie, how he wasn’t the son Dad believes him to be? I couldn’t do it, Carrie. I just never could do it. Much as he drank, much as he blamed himself, I just couldn’t do that. Think of this: every single man in this family has, as you know now, served in the army. All Dad did was encourage Robbie to follow suit. If I then told him, after Robbie’s death, why he had actually joined, it wouldn’t be just those things Robbie had done prior to joining that upset him, but the mere fact his son hadn’t really given a damn about the family tradition at all. I saw the whole thing as throwing him further over the edge, not helping at all.”
Carrie pushed herself away from the table and stood.
Out the window, the changing colors of the leaves, the changing scene spoke of chill nights to come and mists that would settle and claim the colors off the land.
“So why, after all this time, did Ty come—because I assume now it was Ty, that is what you’re getting to, isn’t it? Why did he kill Alamo after all this time?”
Jake sucked in a breath as his body flinched from the truth. “He threatened me with telling Dad about Robbie if…if I didn’t do a run for him. He said it was only one run, and I was stupid enough to believe him.”
Carrie sank back into her chair.
“When he wanted me to do a second run, I started out but…well, I spoke to Paige. She called while I was driving there and told me to turn back. I mean, I needed someone like that to yell at me, to make me realize I was just getting into the same situation Robbie had got into. Getting myself into really deep water.” He tapped the fingers of his two hands together, impatient with his own stupidity. “Gonna make a damned good lawyer, your daughter,” he jested. Then, leaning forward again, he went on, “So, obviously, killing Alamo was Ty’s revenge for me not going through with it, letting him down. But I don’t know if he has anything else in store. There’s no way of knowing what that bastard will do. Another dog? A horse next perhaps? One of us? I just don’t know what to do. And even if I now tell Dad the whole story, will Ty stop?”
Carrie stood suddenly as if she were about to swing into action. “You must tell that sheriff, Jake. You must. And you must tell your father the whole story, beginning to end, just as you’ve told me. You can’t let this spiral on like this.”
“Is it ‘o what a tangled web we weave…’?”
Carrie stared at him. She hadn’t smiled when he mentioned Paige, and she wasn’t smiling now. Her mouth puckered and Jake had the feeling she would tear him limb from limb if she could.
“That’s exactly what it is, only you haven’t actually deceived, you’ve just neglected to tell him things. Or maybe you have deceived him, by letting him believe he sent his son to his death. The whole thing is crazy, Jake. Neither of you were responsible for Robbie’s death. He made his own choices, his own decisions, some good, some bad, and he took the consequences. In any case, if every man in this family has served in the army, don’t you think Robbie would have eventually gone anyway? Just like you did. Listen to me, Jake. Ray will understand. He’ll understand why you held all this back, and I think, I believe, he’ll really respect you for telling him.” She slumped back onto her chair, her gaze still boring into him.
Jake shook his head. “I can’t hurt him like that, Carrie. He thinks the world of Robbie. And last time I tried telling him, he started this whole saga about how we’d made him proud, that he was so proud of us both, and how much he loved us.”
“He does love you! You think he’s going to love you less for this?” She smacked the table. “Jake, please. I can’t do this for you, if that was what you were hoping. I can’t! Ray and I are just so open with each other—we have no secrets from each other, nothing. And now you’ve told me this. Please, please tell him. I can’t.”
It suddenly hit Jake he wasn’t sure, in truth, what Carrie could do. He had followed Paige’s advice to discuss it with her mother, but what could come of this? He shook his head more from sorrow than agreement. “I know,” he said. “I just wanted your advice I guess.”
“Well, that’s my advice, Jake. That, and I think you had better tell the sheriff. Everything. They’ll let you off if you go to them now. I know they will. And you’ll end this hold Ty has over this family, put him away, stop him from doing anything further. Think of the lives he is ruining.”
The front door opened and Jake pivoted
in his seat to catch his father walking in, a spring in his step as he hung his hat on the hall hook and peeped through the glass at them. Carrie managed a wave and a smile while he reluctantly nodded in greeting to his father.
“What am I missing?” A questioning gaze slid from Jake to Carrie. “If ever there were a couple of folks up to no-good, I tell you…”
She got up and went to him, putting her arms around him as he kissed the top of her head. “I think I might manage to cook you dinner tonight,” she said with a smug expression on her face.
“Really? That’ll be a first. Jake, you gonna risk being poisoned?”
****
Carrie was relieved Ray had not asked her what her pow-wow with Jake had been about. In the quiet of the bedroom when he went over the day’s events, she braced herself for the question. But he was not pushy, he never dug for information. His patience for letting things unfold was extraordinary. And in this case, for that, she was thankful.
The question of how Jake had let this go on for so long, how he had succumbed to Ty’s Machiavellian dealings, ran through her mind. Ray would be hurt; he would hurt badly from the story his son would tell him, and she wanted to be there to ease his pain—and stop him from resorting to the bottle. But as a week passed, and Jake didn’t make a move, Carrie decided she couldn’t egg him on; this had to be his decision.
And then Paige called.
“I imagine you know about Jake. Or at least I’m hoping you know…”
“He told me. Everything I think. But he hasn’t told Ray yet.”
“Shit.” There was silence on the phone and Carrie could tell her daughter was pacing. “Maybe I should call him.”
“I don’t think so, Paige. I think this now has to be Jake’s decision. We’ve both told him what we think. We’ve both told him to tell Ray and tell the police, haven’t we? It’s now up to him.” She took a breath but when her daughter made no reply, she continued, “He’s probably just waiting for the right moment, and it isn’t easy. He has to get Ray at—” She stopped. She’d been prattling on with no response from her generally opinionated daughter. It struck her as odd. “Paige?”
“I’m here.”
“You’re unusually quiet. What’s the matter?”
“I have a new roommate, Mom.” Paige almost blurted it out, knowing as she did her mother would be nothing short of stunned.
“A roommate? That’s wonderful! Who? Why? When?”
“About a week ago. I mean, you’re forking out for this two bedroom apartment because it was the only thing I could get so close to school starting, and I just thought, well, it’s ridiculous for me to be rolling around here on my own. I mean, it’s nice at times, but at other times not so nice.” Paige thought again of that silence, that quiet that had spooked her in the night, and shivered.
“Well, who is it? Tell me everything.”
Her mother would hope it was a man, but she let it pass.
“Her name is Deirdre Everton. She was living way out of town with family friends and commuting in, which was ridiculous of course, so she’s absolutely ecstatic she saw my ad and is now so close to campus.”
“I bet she is.”
“I’ll send you the rent. I mean…”
“Oh, Paige, for heaven’s sake. That’s the last thing I’m worried about.”
“I know, but… Look, I’ll take over the utilities and the other bills then, it’s the least I can do. Okay?”
“Fine.”
She envisaged her mother rolling her eyes.
“So, what is she like?”
“Outgoing, a bit too chatty at times, but if I tell her I’m working, she does shut up and seems to know now when to leave me alone. She’s a good cook. And she’s about a gazillion feet tall and blond and from Austin.”
Her mom burst out laughing. “Oh, Paige. You didn’t choose her as a possible match for Jake, did you?”
“Absolutely. Absolutely, they’re a perfect match. Nothing in common I know of, of course, except maybe Texas. But they’re a perfect match.”
****
What Jake and Carrie might possibly have been discussing so seriously ran through Ray’s mind with various permutations, but he didn’t dwell on it. For all he knew, his son was still considering going back to school and was sounding out Carrie on her feelings on the matter. Sooner or later, birds came home to roost, and if he was meant to know, it would come out.
Yet, Jake’s listlessness had reached epic proportions. Although he knew from experience his son’s temper could be sparked with flint-like immediacy, the boy had actually always been a gentle child, a worrier, the softer of the two brothers, thinking things through and analyzing them until he would take action. Then there was the day Jake had announced he was going into the army, a decision that had surprised Ray and, after Robbie’s death, frightened him. Yet, what could he have done? His son had been adamant. Every man in his family had served, and Jake had said he had to follow. It had stunned him; having used those very same words to get Robbie to enlist, when Jake had told him of his own decision, it had been a terrific blow. But he was home now—home safe, sound…and unhappy.
He stood watching Jake come toward him at the barn, his son’s loping walk a mimic of his own saunter.
“What’s up?” He kept an eye on one of the new stable boys currying a horse.
“I’m worried ’bout the horses.” Jake’s voice was flat, but then, no explanation was really needed.
Ray took a hoof pick to show the stable boy how to use it. He put a hand to his back as he bent over.
“Where the heck is Stacey and the other stable girls?” Jake asked, making a grab for the pick. “Here, let me do that, Dad.”
“I’m not that old yet!” He straightened and gave his son a stern face before bending and sliding his hand down the horse’s cannon to lift its hoof. “Stacey’s off sick, and the others are busy. So, what’s brought on this worry ’bout the horses all of a sudden? It’s been a time since Alamo was killed. You think this person is gonna strike again? You got some ideas on this?”
As he glanced back at his son, there was no doubting the worry on Jake’s drawn face.
“I think we ought to keep the horses stabled at night and have more security lights put up.”
“I’ve ordered that already,” Ray answered. The pick threw out small clumps of dirt. “Man’s coming Monday to put them up, wire them in. What else?”
“I…” His voice trailed off.
Ray straightened again.
“I guess that’s it. Seems you have everything under control then.”
“Well, Jake, if you’ve got some ideas or want to say something ’bout this, I’m all ears. I’m open to suggestions. Let’s hear it, son.” He took in the solemn face and knew something was wrong.
“No. Nope, it’s fine. That was all. I worried ’bout the horses, the paddock and barn being away from the house and all, we might not hear anything. I mean, if someone has it in for us, they may well come back.”
“You think a camera or two might be a good idea down here? Cost a bit, of course, and means we have to check the tape or whatever the hell it is every so often and all. ’Less, of course, we get it hitched up to a computer in the house or some such system. Rather fancy bit of tech stuff if you ask me, and more likely than not, if anyone strikes, it’ll be while we’re sleeping.”
“Well, it’s up to you, Dad. I think we can manage with a computer system, but then, I also think something that sets off alarms might do as well. Makes more sense, don’t you think? If we wait to watch a screen, it may be too late. You might consider a driveway alarm, I think they call them.”
“Well, a driveway alarm might drive me nuts with so many people coming and going. You got guests goin’ on out for dinner and comin’ back late. But the cameras—I’ll get it done with the lights. Larry actually told me the Double Bar M got themselves some fancy system that sends alarms to their cell phones, but it’s a pain in the butt since animals set it off every so of
ten. I don’t think we need that.” Ray held out the hoof pick to the boy. “Here, you try that now on the next one, okay?”
His son still stood there, watching, waiting.
“Was there anything else, Jake?”
“No…nothing at all.”
****
Carrie finished the final read-through of her manuscript and sat back with a sense of deep satisfaction. She clicked it into an attachment to her agent and tapped in a brief note before taking a breath and pondering whether to take a few days off to do some more riding and hunting with Ray if he had time. Her love of living on the ranch was beginning to make her find more and more excuses why she didn’t have to return to New York.
Getting up and stretching, she stood watching birds fly across the dappled horizon, a flapping V like some Busby Berkeley formation. The mackerel sky was sliding into evening. Texas was still very warm for October, and she opened the sunroom doors a bit, before turning to open the doors into the house.
And then she saw her. A thin, blonde woman about the same age as herself stood in the front hall staring at her.
Suddenly, Mabel toddled into the picture. “Mr. Ray is down at the hunt office now. You go on down there, you wanna speak to him.” The housekeeper’s no-nonsense tone was at one of its more intimidating pitches.
For a moment, Carrie wondered if this was some troublesome customer who had been here before, whom Mabel knew. But something told her it wasn’t; something told her exactly who this was. She started down the hallway.
The woman’s gaze ran over Carrie, an obvious momentary assessment, making no disguise of the fact as the blonde’s face screwed up into a rictus of disgust. Carrie noted the dark roots long overdue to match the remains of her uncombed hair, the casual clothes crumpled and hanging on her thin frame.
“Who the hell are you?” this unwanted guest asked while continuing to stare her down. She fished in a pocket of her jacket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and proceeded to tap one out.
“I’m Ray’s friend.” Carrie kept her voice unemotional, inoffensive. “Can I help you?” She saw Mabel’s eyes grow big with apprehension as the generally authoritarian housekeeper almost tripped a step back.
Dances of the Heart Page 20
