by Heidi Hormel
“Sounds more like he didn’t reveal everything. And you’re telling me that you’ve been completely open and honest with him about everything? Because this certainly is not about him deceiving the university. This is about him and you.”
“There wasn’t a him and me. We just...” Lavonda trailed off because honestly—as if anything about the situation invoked honesty—she didn’t know what they had been.
“Of course, there was a you and him. You don’t get involved—and I would say something else here, but little pitchers, big ears—if you don’t feel something or want a more permanent relationship.”
All of that made Lavonda want to cry, wail and beat her breasts. She didn’t even care how overly dramatic that sounded. “Be that as it may,” she responded, “he lied, and I want my interactions with him to be limited. Going out on the trail is not limiting my exposure to more of his lies.”
“Let me try this. When you worked in PR, you never lied, right?” Olympia didn’t wait for an answer. “Instead, you put the best face on things so the business could do its business. That’s all Jones has done. He revamped his name and picked a glamorous new quest to move on after a disaster. It’s not like he’s an ax murderer. Cut him a break.”
“You’re my friend. You’re supposed to agree with me.”
“I do agree with you when you aren’t being...unreasonable.” Olympia sighed deeply. “You are right that he shouldn’t have deceived you after you two...became close. But this is something you should understand, isn’t it? Did you tell your bosses that you were bronc rider? That you’d won a buckle?”
“It never came up.” Lavonda could see where this argument was leading.
“I bet even your corporate boyfriends didn’t know about that. How is that any different? He just didn’t reveal everything right now. Both of you were working on trusting the other.”
“All right. You made your point. I’m an unreasonable, emotionally blackmailing female.”
“You are making this tougher than it should be. I’m just saying that you need to put this in context, in perspective. After you do that, call me back and ask about Cat again.” Olympia hung up.
Lavonda stared down at the animal in question. “Is Olympia right? Am I being overly dramatic?” Cat’s eyelids closed halfway. “You’re bored with this conversation, huh?”
Lavonda walked to the kitchenette and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. She remembered Jones—not even his real name—and her... She stopped the rest of the mental rant. He’d explained that the nickname had been given to him by his brother at school. On the rodeo circuit, people gave themselves new names all the time. It wasn’t about deceiving but about marking a change in their lives. She couldn’t blame Jones for wanting to distance himself from his past. She’d done the same when she’d gotten rid of all of her jeans and boots, only wearing tailored suits. Didn’t everyone deserve a second chance? Isn’t that what the whole West had been built on? That might be a little farfetched, but she’d guess that at least a few of her ancestors had come out here to give themselves that second chance, leaving behind a life that no longer worked or that they had messed up or one of a thousand other reasons.
She called Olympia back and asked her to watch Cat and the ranch.
“I’m not going to say you were right,” Lavonda said, “except you made me rethink the situation. I can give him a second chance because in the big scheme, it’s not like he did anything thousands of others have not done before. I remember a girl at the rodeo who insisted that her name was Star. Her real name was Caroline. She said that was to honor Belle Starr and to let everyone know that she’d be in the money. It was also because she’d gotten into some trouble, as we found out. She was just leaving that behind, marking that she had begun a new chapter, turned a new page.”
“I don’t think I said all of that,” Olympia said.
“It was implied.” Lavonda smiled because she was happy, at peace with her decision. “He’s not an ax murderer, and he’s promised to answer any of my questions. He’s also back on track with his research.”
“Certainly sounds like a good way to move forward. Enjoy yourself and remember to double check the...you know.”
“You know?”
“You know.” Olympia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The nighttime protection.”
“It seems to me that failed protection is exactly how baby Audie came to be.”
“That was fate intervening and it hasn’t worked out so bad.”
For a millisecond, Lavonda imagined a redheaded baby with freckles and then shut that down. “I’m going to the drugstore as soon as I’m off the phone.” Olympia was still laughing when Lavonda hung up.
* * *
JONES SPENT THE afternoon in the barn grooming the horses, moving feed, chasing Cat away from his feet and finally talking with Reese as he cleaned out the little animal’s stall. Not that it needed it. Lavonda took care of the animals each morning. After the confrontation in the president’s office, he’d known she wouldn’t appreciate him even suggesting that he’d help her.
“Laddie,” Jones said to Reese in the broadest accent he could muster. “Are ye ready for an adventure?”
Reese stared straight at him, a piece of hay hanging from his mouth, obviously not impressed or interested in Jones’s comments.
“Ready or not, we’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he continued in his usual voice. “I believe that Lavonda may have deliberately forgotten to get us Hobnobs, until I reminded her.”
“Yee-owl.” Cat came running, belly swinging.
“Dear Lord. How did she hear me say that? When I can saddle you up and ride you, then you’ll have earned a biscuit.”
Despite her bulk, Cat easily leaped into the stall and settled herself onto Reese’s back. The little burro dropped his head and dozed off.
“I thought creatures were open to conversation with humans.” That was in the movies. This was real life, where he’d placed himself into a position that meant he needed to forget about Lavonda and anything that had happened between them. “The best-case scenario is that I find the cache, then everyone will forgive me for everything. Right, Reese?” The donkey didn’t twitch. Cat lifted her lip and showed a canine.
He couldn’t delay further. He needed to organize his supplies and equipment because he had to go back to the desert to finish his research. He had to turn something in about beans and find the cache. He knew he was close to finding where his relative had noted his first clue.
Jones made his way from the barn to the ranch house, walking slowly in the heat. He wished he had his lucky straw hat—that was gone, like a lot of things in his life. He’d have to make do with the replacement he’d found in town and hope his luck hadn’t run out when he’d lost the original in the arroyo.
“Jones,” Lavonda shouted as he set foot in the kitchen.
Damn.
“I need to talk to you.”
He’d bet she did. He didn’t need her telling him again that he was a lying sack of—
“Yo, cowboy,” she said. “Didn’t you hear me? I want to talk about the next trip. Get a drink and we’ll sit on the patio.” She walked off.
He grabbed the iced tea he was coming to enjoy and followed her outside.
“Not too bad for early summer.” She sipped her own drink and stared at the glass. “While I’m not happy about you hiding your name. I also understand that we all want a fresh start. After all, that’s probably why half of the settlers ended up in Arizona. You still owe the university their bean paper. I’ve talked to Gwen to re-confirm the university is okay with me remaining as your guide. She agreed that it would expedite the process but made clear the university would not ask me to take you into the desert. I’m okay with that and I’ve got nothing on my plate for the next month. That’s enough time, right?”
“Bean paper?”
> “Whatever.” She waved a hand. “I was asking about the timing.”
“A month should be adequate.” Had she said she’d forgiven him? And if so, what did that mean? “We’re good then?” She cocked her head to one side. “I’m forgiven?”
“Nothing to forgive. But do you really go by Ross?”
“Only on paper. My family and colleagues call me Jones.”
“I always wanted a nickname.”
“You did?”
“I hated my name. For six months, I made everyone call me Lizzie. That ended when my brother, Danny, got me an ax.”
Jones knew that that this was significant but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why.
“You know, Lizzie Borden took an ax, and gave her parents forty whacks?”
“Is that a nursery rhyme?”
“Not really. A famous nineteenth-century accused murderess. Anyway, I gave up on the name change.” She took another long swallow of iced tea. “I’m going to the store before we hit the trail. Do you need anything? More Hobnobs?”
“Yes, please,” he said. “I had hoped to leave tomorrow.”
“Day after will have to do.”
He nodded. “You’re sure? I would understand if you changed your mind.”
“Yes.”
He watched her fiddle with the glass. “Is this just a professional trip?”
Her wide-eyed gaze caught his, then she looked back down. “It might be best.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s not like you’re staying in Arizona.”
They would have to break it off sooner or later. Maybe sooner was better. But, damn, he wasn’t quite ready for what they had to end. He probably should just be happy that she was still speaking to him. Yeah. That’s all he could hope for. “I’ll work on the maps and coordinates.”
“Good idea.”
* * *
LAVONDA SETTLED INTO the tent despite the stifling warmth. She needed to be by herself, away from Jones after two long days on the trail. She lay back and stared at the smooth nylon in cheery yellow, willing the tears away. She’d always known her time with Jones had an end date. She closed her eyes. Lavonda, my love. Her eyes popped open. He’d said that in the heat of passion, before she’d found out that he was Jones but not Jones, that he was after beans but not beans. He’d probably said it to hundreds of lassies. She was going to go to sleep. She would not think of Jones. She would not think about what it would be like at the ranch without him, until she found her next job and revived her own career. It would be better. No more worries on where Cat hung out. No more driving an extra thirty minutes to buy Hobnobs.
She sat up, lit the lantern and dug until she found her pen and paper. Tonight called for a pro and con list.
“Everything okay?” Jones asked from outside her tent.
Her pen skittered across the paper. “Can’t a woman turn on a light?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
Was his voice closer? “Trying. It’s—” She’d nearly said hot, but her mind filled in, That’s what she said. Her heart broke a little. “Making notes on my career plan.” Liar.
“I’m certain that you’ll have no difficulties finding a job. I could give you a reference.”
“I’m good.” Inside, she yelled, Go away. She swore she could smell him through the thin tent material.
“Fine. Just offering to help.”
“Stop talking. That would be a help.”
He didn’t respond. Had rudeness worked? She listened for his footsteps—no one could sneak around in boots. Nothing. “Jones? What are you doing?” She made a bargain with herself. If he didn’t answer by the time she counted to eight, then she was throwing back the tent flap and giving him what for. One. Two. Three. Four.
“Shite,” he said, so softly that she almost couldn’t hear him.
“Will you stop skulking around out there? It’s kind of creepy.”
“I do not skulk.”
“Then what are you doing?” She might just peek to check on him.
“I’m...stretching.”
“For goodness’ sake,” Lavonda said at the same time she threw back the tent flap. She couldn’t sleep or work with him looming outside. “Stretch somewhere else.”
“That’s what she said?”
“You’re never going to get that right.”
“I know. It’s just that. Hell,” he breathed out, and turned from her. “I’m trying to be a professional.”
“A professional what?”
“No more lies, right? I want to make love to you.”
“Oh.”
“That’s what she said, and I’ll not hear that I didn’t get it right,” he said, rolling every one of the r’s.
Just before she completely gave in to her shivers of delight, Lavonda thought to herself that a kilted cowboy might just be the kind of cowboy she could love.
Chapter Eleven
As a child, Jones had dreamed about being in the desert by a campfire, as he’d seen in films. The reality had turned out to be a one-burner camp stove and dehydrated meals. No cookie in a wagon making meals of biscuits and stew and no glow of oil lanterns—solar-powered halogen lamps lit up the site. Still, being in Arizona had lived up to his imaginings in many ways and surpassed his expectation in others.
He glanced at Lavonda as she carefully ate a spoonful of the nondescript food. They’d go their separate ways in another three weeks, unless he found the cache sooner. His heart squeezed. Excitement for what his future would hold when he found a cave filled with gold, silver and relics. Right, that’s what it was. He’d be set at the university. No one would think of him as Iain’s younger, less talented, slightly mad brother, discoverer of the Dolly-Acropolis. He might even be able to convince a university in Arizona to take him on. The sand and heat of the desert felt right, as if they were his destiny. He snorted.
“What?” Lavonda asked. “Channeling your inner Reese?” On cue, the little burro gave a matching snort. She laughed. He smiled.
“I was thinking about the biscuits and stew you always see cowboys eating in the films. This is certainly not that.”
“Nope. Sweet-and-sour pork. Not the worst.”
“Damned by faint praise.”
She shrugged. “We’ve got Hobnobs, cowboy.” Reese brayed and shifted where he was staked out. His horse companions barely lifted their heads. They were used to the overly dramatic donkey.
“That almost makes up for the lack of biscuits.”
“That’s not true. Hobnobs are biscuits.”
“Very funny. I’ve become thoroughly American and the only biscuits I acknowledge are a mile high, fluffy and slathered with jam.”
“We’ll stop at the diner in Angel Crossing on the way home. No need to beg.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re hankering for biscuits, and the diner should have them because it’s a diner.”
“Hankering?”
“I’m working on giving you the proper cowboy adventure. I wouldn’t want it to be said that the Angel Crossing campus had not provided its visitors with a superior desert experience.”
Suddenly, he didn’t want the lighthearted banter. “I’m not certain I’m going back to Scotland.”
“Really. Do you have other digs planned?” Lavonda didn’t look up from her food.
“Not yet.” The more he thought about it, the more sense it made to leverage the cache into a position at a US university.
“I didn’t realize beans were such a big thing.”
“Agriculture, really. It’s an important branch.” Important, but boring. He’d finally admitted it. He couldn’t care less about beans or wheat or anything else he’d studied.
“Farming
is still important. I mean, how else would we have these superior freeze-dried meals?”
“You know, I wanted to be a cowboy.”
“What little boy doesn’t?”
“In Scotland. When your family have been academics since before the Rising?”
“You can’t be a scholar and a cowboy? We have cowboy poets and singing cowboys.”
“You know about my relative—the cousin a couple times removed—who explored the West.” Should he be traveling over this dangerous ground? She wouldn’t guess he hadn’t given up his search from a little talk.
“Where’d he settle?” She put down her packet of “food” and looked at him with the wide-eyed stare that made him want to...well, he wasn’t sure what, except he didn’t want to hide anything from her. What else could he do, though?
“Nevada or Utah, I think, to work for a university studying the ancient sites.”
“He studied indigenous culture way back when?”
Jones shrugged and his shoulder pulled a little, a reminder of his adventure with Reese. Is that how it would feel when he left Lavonda? A twinge? The only reminder an ache from time to time. He feared that it would be something much more painful and sharp. “He looked for links between the peoples of the Americas and the East. An unusual line of inquiry.”
“That’s a new one. Although there were those land bridges, right? That allowed people to populate all of the continents. I can watch a public television series with the best of them. Did he find any links?”
Should he reveal everything? Maybe she’d already found it online anyway. “He reportedly found obviously not Native American and possibly Mongol cultural items in materials being taken to the missions.”
“I can’t believe I never heard about that, but I guess that’s why you were looking for it? None of the materials made it to the university or a museum. That’s odd.”
“Yes, odd, and ancient history...” Nice way to redirect the conversation, Jones. “What about you? What are you going to do when you no longer have to follow a bean researcher into the desert?”
“First, I have to write a scintillating article about said research and another piece about the petroglyphs and their preservation. After that, I’ll be looking for a job. A real job.”
