He put the gearshift into Reverse and spun the car in a circle to head out of the driveway without speaking once. I decided to break the silence.
“What is it with men? Don’t you think I’m capable of figuring out the angle a gun was fired? Or that I can do some investigating on my own?” I stared out the window as rain hit it in a splatter pattern. “Or I am supposed to mind my own business like a good ranch wife?”
“Cici!” My name exploded out of Audie’s mouth like an epithet. “That’s not the problem and you know it. I have no doubt that you can do whatever you set your mind to.”
I knew that I wasn’t being fair to Audie. He wasn’t my father, the man who hoped, even counted on me to stay behind and help run the ranch while my sister abandoned us to pursue her dreams. He wasn’t a local cowboy who expected me to prefer hot black coffee and sweet iced tea because that’s the way things had always been. He didn’t call my store my hobby instead of seeing it for what it was—a business and a chance to do something, be someone different. I adjusted the hat on my head, using the time to clear my mind of baggage that didn’t belong to the man seated next to me.
“It’s not your competence that I’m worried about,” Audie continued in a calmer tone. “It’s you—all of you. Someone has murdered once and thinks he got away with it.”
“Or she,” I pointed out.
“And she”—Audie emphasized the pronoun—“might kill again if she feels threatened. You could step on a hornet’s nest without realizing it. ‘A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies.’ ” This time Audie quoted Wilde without his usual dash of humor. “You don’t know who the enemy is. The killer probably feels safe as long as everyone thinks Penn’s death was an accident.”
I shook my head in frustration. Why didn’t he understand? “But as long as everyone thinks Penn’s death was a dreadful accident, blame will fall on either Dina or Cord. Or both of them. No. I refuse to let that happen as long as I can do something about it.”
Audie pounded his hands against the steering wheel. The car jerked and skidded over the slick road. He took a deep breath and brought the vehicle back under control. “I can’t jump a horse over a fence, but I can put my body in front of yours if anything happens. And I may need to if you insist on looking into the murder.”
Wow. Both Cord and Audie had expressed concern about my safety, like two roosters fighting over the right to protect me. I only hoped that no one got hurt in the process, including me. I put my hand on Audie’s arm.
“You really are a noble friend,” I said. His eyes slanted a question at me. “Audwin. I looked up your name on the Internet one day to find its meaning.” I blushed as I said this. Fathers didn’t name their boys Audwin in Oklahoma. and I was curious. “Audwin means noble friend, and it describes you well.”
Audie huffed. “I hope to be more than your friend. Once you get over this obsession with the murder.” Once again, I was reminded of a rooster crowing.
“It’s a place to start.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back. Something inside of me pinged, like a chord not plucked for a long time.
Audie smirked, as if he had won the first round of the cockfight. His voice turned serious. “You can at least wait until the police get the ballistics report. There is no need to go around stirring up trouble if the tests prove it was—well, an accident, you know.”
“No, no,” I said. “If someone exchanged real bullets for the blanks, then it was someone besides Dina. She takes good care of the props. You know that. You’ve worked with her before.”
Audie grinned at the memory. I bet he hadn’t known what to do with the green-haired teenager who arrived at the theater for the first open audition and announced her desire to manage the props. No one else expressed interest—they all wanted a part in the play—and she had experience with a couple of high school productions. She won the position by default. After that, she twisted my arm for assistance with costumes and introduced me to Audie.
“I’ve never regretted my decision to take her on,” Audie admitted. “There’s never been a single missing prop, not even at a rehearsal. She was extra careful with those guns.”
“Think about Cord’s theory for a minute. It makes sense. Anyone familiar with the story of the gunfight would know when to shoot. The exchange of gunfire would cover the sound; and no one would be looking their way because everyone’s attention was on Cord and Penn. ‘Nothing captures an audience like a good fight.’ Isn’t that what you said?”
“You would throw my words back at me.” Audie grimaced. He had instructed his actors to make their stage fight realistic. “But surely someone would notice somebody with a rifle. Someone besides Penn or Cord, of course.”
“All kinds of people were carrying around rifles yesterday. Men, women. Even the children had pop guns. I think it made them feel like real pioneers, like those statues of frontier women in Ponca City.”
“Carrying a weapon isn’t the same as firing it. They were taking an awful risk, aiming a rifle in plain sight. That saloon front had no windows.”
“It could have been a revolver. It probably was.” Why was Audie being so stubborn about it? “The art of misdirection at the opportune moment.”
Audie snorted. “That’s it, then. All we need to do is find a magician with a reason to kill Penn. Were there any wandering minstrels in the crowd yesterday?”
“Like your mime act?” I had to laugh at that. Audie had arranged for clowns to entertain the children with balloons and magic tricks.
“Your theory has one additional advantage.” Audie’s voice came out strangely, as if the words strangled his throat.
“What’s that?”
“It clears Cord from suspicion.”
“You don’t really think Cord did it?”
“No. But maybe I wish he did.”
Oh. The heart of the matter, the rooster wanting any advantage over his opponent. The second round went to Cord by default.
We didn’t say much more until we arrived at my father’s house at the Crazy W Ranch. Crazy and wild, that described my family’s name and heritage. As soon as Audie parked his Focus, Jenna dashed out.
“Oh, good, you’re here. I need you to go to the store.” Jenna didn’t wait for a response. “Here’s the shopping list. Dina didn’t have any of the things I need to make my special California salad. Organic, if possible. Dad has the chicken on the grill.”
Audie looked at the still gray sky. Only Jenna would plan to grill outside on a rainy day. New Mexico had spoiled her. Maybe there they could cook outside year round. I didn’t really know.
“Of course it took quite a bit of effort to get the grill onto the porch, but it’s done, and then I discovered we didn’t have any avocados or fresh oranges and apricots. I did find prunes.” She giggled. “Go on. I still have to cut up the potatoes for French fries.” At least my sister hadn’t become a total health nut, as long as she still made French fries from potatoes grown in our own garden, a Wilde family favorite.
“And hurry, will you? Dad and Dina are famished. I don’t know why, after that enormous lunch everyone had at church.” Jenna dashed inside.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Audie. “Do you mind? My sister is a force of nature.”
“So I see.” Audie looked shell-shocked, the way most people did when the winds of Hurricane Jenna passed over them. “No, of course not.” He backed the car up and turned around, heading down the short distance of our driveway. The Crazy W ranch hadn’t expanded as much as the Circle G had, and our farmhouse sat close to the road.
I studied Audie’s profile. The rain had ruffled his careful hairstyle so that it lay in unorganized strands around his head. It was rather darling, showing the shape of his skull to good advantage. I wondered if he had ever shaved it all off. People did that in the city, I heard, although here in Oklahoma we would probably think “Nazis” and “skinheads,” and any boy who shaved his head would receive a whipping from his father. I guessed that Audie always w
ore his hair long, in the style of artists the world over. He would look good either way.
“I’m sorry about today,” I said. “Not exactly the kind of day we planned.” When Audie invited me to the concert, I expected a day of worship and music followed by a quiet family dinner. Instead, he saw his date dancing the cancan on stage and then endured a long chat with his rival about the repercussions of Penn’s death.
“None of it is your fault.” Audie’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “No one expected Penn to die. And I will help you in any way I can.”
I knew he still didn’t agree with my desire to pursue the murderer, which made his offer even sweeter. The car ate up the miles into town.
“Which store?” Audie asked as we reached the edge of the business district.
I looked at Jenna’s shopping list. “The Shop ’n’ Save. They have the best produce.” I had no idea which store carried organic goods, and I didn’t care. I wanted juicy, plump fruit, regardless of how it was grown.
We entered the store and headed down the produce aisle. I grabbed a bag of mixed salad greens instead of the requested iceberg and romaine lettuce. That would have to suffice. I studied the shopping list again, automatically alphabetizing the items: almonds, apple, avocado, apricot, celery, olive oil, orange. “Why not call it the A-plus salad.” I giggled at my own joke.
Audie looked at the list. “Add an artichoke. And asparagus.”
I pretended to gag. “Or how about this? It’s called araza.” I held up a round, yellow fruit. “I think I will.”
“Tell me about Jenna. The two of you seem so different.” Audie stopped at the apple bins. “Which type do you think she wants? They taste so different.”
I studied the varieties, the faithful red delicious, and softer Jonathans, and my gaze hit upon an A. “Let’s try the Ariane.” I dropped a couple of apples into a bag and twisted the top.
Jenna. The orange that grew on the Wilde family apple tree. We rarely talked about Jenna’s past, although we didn’t make a secret of it. Anyone who lived in Grace Gulch twenty years ago knew the truth. I saw no harm in telling Audie the story, and it might help him understand the Wilde family dynamics better.
“Jenna’s always been a bit wild.”
“From birth,” Audie replied solemnly. “So have you.” Then he grinned to let me know it was a joke.
“Oh, you know what I mean. She’s six years older than me. When I was a kid, it seemed like she was determined to break every rule Mom and Dad set down.”
We left the produce section in search of slivered almonds and salad dressings.
“When Jenna was fifteen, she became pregnant.” I said it matter of factly. At nine, I relished the idea of another baby in the family. The shame and despair that engulfed my mother at the time had washed over me without leaving a trace.
“Mom and Dad decided to keep her child and raise her as their own. A couple of months after I turned ten, just two weeks shy of Jenna’s sixteenth birthday, she gave birth to a baby girl.”
“Dina.” Audie understood immediately.
“Dina, yes. She’s my niece by birth and my sister by adoption.”
“That helps me understand why she’s so different from you. I thought it was probably because she’s the baby of the family.”
The next aisle over, we stopped in front of the salad dressings. “I confess I’m not fond of olive oil.”
Audie grabbed a bottle of Catalina dressing. “I’ve had this on fruit salads. It’s pretty good.” He added olive oil. “For Jenna’s sake.”
“Dad handled Jenna’s wild streak better than Mom. She never seemed to recover from the shock. She died unexpectedly, a couple of weeks before Jenna graduated from high school.” The remembered pain of those days made my eyes sting. “Then Jenna left for college in the fall and never came back. To live here, I mean.”
“You must have been lonely.”
I appreciated that about Audie. He understood unspoken things. We grabbed a bag of almonds and headed for the check out. We continued talking while the clerk weighed each bag of fruit.
“With Mom dead and Jenna gone, I took over with Dina. After high school, I stayed in town and went to Grace Gulch Community College for two years. The same school Dina is attending now.” Our community college attracted people from across Lincoln County.
“Didn’t you graduate from some fashion design school in Houston?”
I nodded. “I crammed my junior and senior years into three semesters and graduated early. It was wonderful. Then I came back home.”
I paid the cashier. Audie grabbed the bags and headed out to the car. I followed, continuing the story.
“To give her credit, Jenna has always supported Dina, even when she was in college. And Dina’s always known the truth. But when Jenna comes home, it’s like I don’t exist.”
“Like the father visiting his kids every other weekend. Party time.”
“Exactly.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. It was foolish to harbor anger at my elder sister. “Dina gets into trouble with this shooting, and there’s Jenna, swooping in to rescue her. Even if she had already planned to come for Land Run Days.” Why hadn’t Dina come to me with her troubles?
The rain had stopped, leaving the early evening sky crisp and clear. Audie stuffed the bags in the trunk of the car and put his arms around me.
“Oh, Cici. You don’t have to prove anything. To Dina. Or to me.”
I felt safe and secure in the circle of his arms. Safe enough to cry. So I did. Audie didn’t say anything. He rubbed my back and let me cry, my tears soaking the front of his shirt more surely than the afternoon’s rainstorm. Eventually I stopped. I lifted my face to his and looked into those beautiful blue eyes. He leaned down and kissed me, once, lightly, on the lips. Then he dug in the pocket of his jeans and dabbed a monogrammed handkerchief on my face, wiping away the traces of tears.
“I would kiss away every tear,” he said. “But then we might be here all night.” He managed a weak smile and stepped back. “Are you okay?”
His words broke the wonder of the moment. “I’m fine now.” My voice didn’t quiver, and I opened the passenger door to prove my point. “We’d better get going, before they send the posse after us.”
A few minutes later, we were back at the house. Jenna and Dina worked in the kitchen, cubing the chicken. Cool, damp air carried spicy aromas from the grill, into the house. Jenna raised an eyebrow at our odd assortment of fruits and vegetables, but didn’t comment. Audie took on the task of chopping the araza for the salad. He handed each of us a piece to try it. It tasted a bit like banana.
“We decided to create our own recipe,” I explained, stirring the fruit into the mix. “It’s a California A-plus Salad.”
Dina giggled.
“I like it.” Jenna shook olive oil and lemon juice in a cruet but left the Catalina dressing in the bottle. “No need to be fancy.” She did the honors of tossing the ingredients together in a huge ceramic bowl that she sent us from New Mexico one Christmas. Made by Native Americans, of course. I reminded her that Oklahoma prided itself on its Indian heritage. She had retorted that the Navajo and Apache cultures were very different.
Before long we sat in our comfortable kitchen, the window open to let in the rain-cleansed air, mismatched silverware adding a family touch to the table. Dad stared at the fruit salad, searching his extensive bank of memorized proverbs for an appropriate quote. “The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life.”
“Proverbs 11:30. I love the end of that verse. ‘And he who wins souls is wise.’ ” Audie could match Dad, verse for verse.
Dad beamed. “Will you say the blessing, Audie?”
Audie spoke a brief prayer, and we passed the salad.
“You two disappeared after the concert,” Jenna said. “People wanted to get a picture of us, the three Wilde sisters together.”
“Yeah. Maybe we could have used it as a publicity photo and gone on tour.” Dina giggled.
I bit
off the response to the outrageous suggestion that sat on the tip of my tongue. I knew Dina was joking. “We had to make a stop.” I saw no need to explain the conversation we had overheard between Chief Reiner and Cord. Audie took his cue from me and didn’t expand on my explanation.
Jenna took a bite of the improvised salad. “Mmm, perfect. You’ll have to tell me the name of that fruit again. This is even better than my standard California salad recipe.”
Dina heaped her plate full with salad and crisp French fries and her own specialty, flaky biscuits. She must be hungry after her appetite-deprived lunch. We addressed ourselves to enjoying the meal.
“Officer Waller asked me to come to the police station again in the morning.” Dina said after she ate the last bite of biscuit and pushed back her plate. “Why do they want to talk with me again? I’ve already told them everything I know.” She glanced at me. “And before you say anything, I’ve asked our lawyer to go with me.”
Uh-oh. Audie and I exchanged glances. “We might know something about that. We ran into the police after the concert.”
“They said you made a threat against Penn when he turned you down for an internship at the Herald,” Audie said bluntly. “And Cici says it’s true.”
“What threat?” Dina thought for a moment and her face reddened. “But. . .” She spluttered. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I mean, I got a job at the Sequoian instead, and it’s much better. Mr. Gaynor lets me a do a lot more things.”
Five forks poised in midair over partially eaten salads. Three pairs of eyes stared accusingly at Audie, then me.
“Not to worry.” Audie grinned. “If people committed murder every time they lost a gig, I’d be a murderer several times over.”
7
August 30, 1891
Dearest Mary,
I am thankful for your godly advice. We must trust God to protect us and our land, after He guides us to the place He has chosen for us. Pardon my loving concern. I continue to seek the perfect place, and I believe I have found it.
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch Page 6
