“So the sheriff won’t lose his job?” Dana ventured, then repeated herself when Mrs. Lockett looked confused.
“I’m not saying he won’t have a tough fight on his hands. Since he was appointed to fill a vacated term of office, the county commissioners can fire him, if that’s what they decide. I figure Judge Hooks will try to use this news as an excuse to give his badge to Wallace. Estelle’ll lobby hard, too, even though she has a soft spot for Jay on account of what happened to his mother.”
“His mother?” Dana had wondered how his uncle had come to raise him.
The old woman’s gaze warmed, and the past drifted across her eyes like thin clouds. “Such a shame, all that was. That Gayla was the prettiest little thing—I taught her in my Sunday-school class when she was just a tiny bit of fluff. As she started getting older the boys buzzed all about her like bees on a blossom. Why, even my Nestor took a shine to her, but he was always the bookish type, my boy. He could never—now, don’t you go repeatin’ this, or I’ll deny it—hold a candle to those handsome Eversole brothers or big Dennis Riggins.”
“So what happened to her?” Dana prompted.
“Why, she ran off with Lewis Eversole, she surely did. Didn’t come back till they were married and she was in the family way. But Devil’s Claw never suited Gayla—or Lewis either, for that matter. Restless types, those two, always chasing after some opportunity in another town, then bouncing back home when it didn’t pan out. But still, she always was a sweet thing. And always kept herself lookin’ pretty as a picture. Why, she was heading back from the beauty parlor over to Pecos when it happened—wanted to look nice for Christmas, cold as it was that year. But she spun out on an icy patch and flipped that cute little convertible she always loved to tool around in.”
“That’s terrible,” said Dana.
Mrs. Lockett’s eyes filmed, and she reached under her bra strap and pulled out a lace-edged handkerchief, thin with age. Dabbing her eyes, she said, “Killed her instantly, it did—and that precious boy of hers was only twelve. His daddy was so broken up, he could hardly stand to look at poor Jay after. That’s when Lewis finally got himself a job that took him out of Devil’s Claw for good.”
“Poor Jay…” Dana, too, had lost a parent young, but she couldn’t imagine how she would have survived had her mother turned her back on her in her grief. Except…wasn’t that exactly what Isabel had done by withdrawing as she had from both her daughters?
“Don’t you worry about our Jay,” Mrs. Lockett told her. “That boy’s a genuine Eversole, like R.C. And everyone in these parts knows that Eversoles make the best sheriffs.”
“Everyone except the Hookses,” Dana said.
“That’s only because blood is thicker—and Wallace is always carryin’ on about how he needs a fatter salary so he can move out of the family house.”
“The deputy still lives at home?”
Mrs. Lockett bobbed her head in answer. “Has since he’s moved back here, and the way I hear it, it’s not a situation that’s to anybody’s liking.”
“So Hooks will try to fire Jay to get his own house in order.”
“That’s part of it, but I’d say far as Abe’s concerned, it’s more about getting one up on Dennis Riggins—he’s another of the county commissioners. Abe’d just as soon dip him in barbecue sauce and leave him in the foothills for a lion. But since he can’t, he’ll try to thwart him ’cause Dennis was the one that swung the vote for Jay’s hiring over Wallace.”
“Hmm…” Dana wished she had a scorecard.
“R.C. was Dennis’s good friend, you see, ever since the two of ’em were knee-high,” said Mrs. Lockett. “He took it awful hard after the fire. And Rigginses and Hookses have been oil and water ever since I can recall—something about a land deal that went sour between their folks. Or maybe it was their granddaddies.”
No wonder these people hated outside interference. Anyone raised elsewhere would need years of study to avoid stepping in the middle of alliances and enmities that were apparently passed down through the generations.
“But then,” Mrs. Lockett continued, “my youngest boy, Nestor, always said that there was more spite between those two families than in a sack of scalded bobcats. And worse ’n ever these past fifteen years or so—ever since that one term Dennis got himself elected county judge and Abe accused him of buying votes.”
“It was nice of your son to offer to drive me to the airport this afternoon,” Dana said to change the subject.
Mrs. Lockett’s thin hand fluttered in dismissal. “I’m afraid Nestor got tied up in that business of his over in Kermit. So my nephew Bill Navarro’s going to take you. You remember Billy, don’t you, from the Broken Spur?”
Dana nodded, trying not to wince at the memory of the huge bouquet back in El Paso and how disappointed he had sounded when she’d asked directions to Jay Eversole’s place after thanking him for the flowers. This could turn awkward if she wasn’t careful.
“That’s a lot of trouble to put him to,” she said uneasily. “A lot of hours on the road to run me into New Mexico. Why don’t I just hire a driver out of—”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Lockett said. “By West Texas standards, the drive to Carlsbad’s nothing. Three hours round-trip at the most. Quicker than that, the way Bill drives.”
Dana’s stomach quivered. After her wild ride two nights before, the idea of speeding along these desert roads unnerved her. Along with the thought of speeding along any road with some lovesick cattleman. If the insurance company ended up totaling her Beamer, she decided she’d buy something slow, low-flash, with lots and lots of air bags. Maybe a higher-clearance vehicle, one that wouldn’t be swept off course by a piddling, knee-deep flood. If she had driven something like that, something safe and practical, maybe she wouldn’t be aching in a dozen places. And maybe her sister would be living, the two of them laughing during the long drive back to Houston, Angie asking anxiously, “So, does Nikki look like me?”
“Dana? Dana, dear, I asked if you’d like more tea.”
Dana blinked to hide the misting of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my mind’s been wandering. And I’d better not have more tea or I’ll be squatting behind every bush from here to Carlsbad. I have enough troubles without getting a bunch of spines in my keister.”
She shivered at a premonition of Bill Navarro volunteering to pull them out. And kiss the hurt to make it better, while he was at it.
Mrs. Lockett smiled, showing yellowed dentures. “If you’re still thinking of Sheriff Eversole, why don’t you go and see him?”
“I do need to ask him a few questions about the investigation. And thank him for bringing me my purse and clothes.”
Kindness settled over the old woman’s expression. “Call it what you like, dear.”
Dana’s face heated, and her gaze drifted toward the closed shades of the front window, which looked out onto the courthouse, as well as the spot where Jay habitually parked his county SUV. Before sitting down to breakfast she had twice peered out, but had seen only Wallace’s blue pickup. Mrs. Lockett must have noticed—or heard something in her voice.
“He probably won’t be in till later,” she said, “but you can take my car to his place if you’d like. I imagine it would do you some good to get out on your own a spell.”
Dana looked at her, surprised—not so much that Mrs. Lockett had picked up on her concern for Jay, but at the offer of the ancient relic gathering dust behind the house. “It…The car still runs?” she asked, and then heated as she realized how snobbish her question must have sounded. “I-I’m sorry. Of course, it must. Or you wouldn’t have offered.”
Mrs. Lockett laughed. “Say what you want about my Edsel. Like you and me, she’s built to last.”
Except for the high-clearance part, the cream-colored Edsel turned out to be everything Dana wanted: low-flash, slow, and put together like a Sherman tank. Even so, she kept nervously checking her mirrors on the way to Jay’s place, looking for the big grille o
f the shooter’s truck.
He was only after Angie, she told herself. And before that, he wanted to keep us away from the other woman he’d killed, the Salt Maiden. An image of Angie’s sun-bleached hair merged with a memory of the weaving on the loom. He’s not after me, not really…
But Dana couldn’t stop thinking of her night in the adobe, when he’d crept so close with what might have been a rifle. Had he mistaken her for Angie that night? Or had his rage spilled over onto her?
One thing was for certain: Jay would have a fit about her driving out here all alone. It was the sole reason she hadn’t called to let him know that she was coming. If she had, he might have driven into town to see her, but she needed time alone before she saw him to collect her thoughts.
Don’t make it complicated. Just tell him good-bye. But that was her head talking, not the part of her behind the wheel.
The good-girl portion, the one that made top grades and sensible decisions, hadn’t made much headway by the time she pulled into his driveway. She was relieved to see Jay’s SUV there and pleased when Max raced over and wagged his little stub tail feverishly.
“Hey, Maxie,” she said as she climbed out of the car to greet him. “Down, boy.”
The dog broke off his attempts to slurp her face and dropped into a down position, though his whole body wriggled in frustrated enthusiasm.
“Somebody’s been working with you,” she said as she bent to scratch the silky fuzz behind his ears. Feeding him well, too, from the way he was beginning to fill out.
“That somebody would be me,” Jay said, from behind her. “Too bad you’re not as amenable to following directions. I thought you’d keep a low profile. Isn’t that what we agreed on?”
She turned her head to see him dressed in khaki shorts and a faded Grateful Dead T-shirt. That took her by surprise, since she’d figured him for country all the way.
She leavened her shrug with a smile. “I’m not the obedient type. So sue me.”
He answered with a wry grin. “Maybe I just will. Rumor has it that you’re loaded.”
She snorted. “You’d better hurry, before my next credit-card statement shows up. You wouldn’t believe the cost of a last-minute, one-way flight from Carlsbad to Houston. And then there’s the fact that I’m not working.”
“That could make two of us soon.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m sorry, Jay. Sorry about everything, including the way our last talk ended.”
Their gazes locked, and she saw in his a reflection of her struggle, her ambivalence about leaving the only good thing to come out of her trip here. Because as unlikely as it was, the connection between them felt real. As real as anything she’d ever known.
He tossed aside the hammer he’d been holding, dropped the bag of nails into the dirt. When she took a step forward he met her, clasping her against him and pulling her into a blazing kiss. Her every nerve ending fired at the contact, and the tears trickling from the corners of her sore eyes signaled joy instead of pain. As his tongue slipped into her mouth, stroking and exploring, a white light seared away the cold, black shadow of her grief.
His hand skimmed along her side before sliding between them to stroke her breast.
He thumbed the nipple, and she pulled her mouth away to whisper, “Yes, Jay. Yes, this, please—before I have to go.”
As his hardness sprang against her, Dana thrilled to the thought that she had caused it, that she meant to set off a lot more than hydraulics. Without a word he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the RV, his only pause to struggle with its stubborn door.
Breathing hard, he said, “This doesn’t make a lot of sense. Not for you and not for me—and if those federal agents see us, I’m in even deeper shit than—”
“Just open the damned door and shut up,” Dana told him, “unless you want them to spot me doing you right here.”
Inside they didn’t make it to the bed. Instead he cleared the breakfast things from the table with a sweep of his arm that sent a coffee mug, a small plate, and a stack of papers flying. Something shattered, but she didn’t see what, didn’t care as he pushed up her T-shirt and made short work of her bra’s front closure, his mouth sucking in her nipple and sending more bliss streaking southward.
She nearly screamed with the pleasure of it as tiny detonations quivered low and deep, building to the first real shudder as he stripped her of her shorts and panties, then laid her out like a dessert and started kissing at two tiny, reddish scars on either side of her lower abdomen.
And then he shifted, kissing his way around her navel and flicking his tongue around its dimple.
“You aren’t going to…” she began, some primly proper corner balking as his lips tickled the inside of her thigh. “People have to eat here.”
He looked up, his eyes laughing, and said, “Damned straight. People do.”
He delved lower, sinking to his knees for access, stroking the center of her until a storm of mindless pleasure crackled all around her. Her neck arched back until she saw nothing, heard nothing but the rasping of her breath, the building of her moans, then the thrumming of her blood like thunder in her ears. When two of his fingers tested her depths she exploded, her cry so loud that from some distant recess she heard Max bark outside.
When the waves at last subsided and she could see again, Jay was fumbling with his own clothes, searching through a pocket, looking. Cursing softly.
Smiling, she told him, “You don’t need a condom. The surgery I mentioned…those scars…I’ll never get pregnant, and I’m not sick.”
“There’s been no one else but you,” he said, “not since the army gave me a clean bill on that count.”
“Why don’t you come up here,” she invited, patting the table as she rose from it, “and let me give you a very personal examination?”
They tangled in another deep kiss that tasted of her own excitement. When her mouth dropped to his neck and her fingers tweaked his nipples, she smiled at his sharp intake of air.
“If you…” he said as she trailed kisses lower. “I won’t last if you don’t stop that.”
She pushed him backward, smiling. “I’ve been told you should lie back and think of England.”
“It’s not working,” he said as she kissed along his length.
She feathered touches, eliciting a low moan that made her smile at the thought of her own power, a power that remained to her despite the surgery. “Then try the queen. That ought to do.”
Apparently it did, for he not only survived what came next, he rallied well enough to flip her over afterward and take her from behind.
She moved in time to his thrusts, her own excitement building as he reached around to touch her, setting her ablaze. As he cried her name and spilled the river of himself inside her, the table cracked and canted and they had to scramble off to keep from sliding to the floor.
“That was some kind of good-bye,” she said as she leaned her head against his chest, nuzzling the coarse hairs. “But I am sorry about your table.”
He kissed her, then smiled down like sunlight. “Maybe someday we’ll take ourselves a trip to England. Seems like I should stop by and thank the queen.”
Sometime later, as he sat with Dana nestled in his arms, Jay felt the shift of her emotions in the warmth of tears against his skin.
“If you’re going to do this every time we make love,” he said as he kissed her temple, “you’re going to give me some kind of complex. You know, on top of the ones I have already.”
As she wiped at her green eyes she tried to laugh, but her expression trembled before collapsing into misery. “I-I’m sorry, Jay. It just seems wrong. Being with you this way. Laughing as if nothing’s happened. And then there’s the part where I stepped outside myself this morning, coming here and throwing myself at you like some sort of a—”
He stopped her with a lingering kiss. When he felt her tension melt into it, he cupped her face and stared at her, intent on memorizing each beautiful detail.
>
“There’s nothing in the world wrong in this, with us,” he said. “It’s only simple, human comfort at a time we both can use it. And I expect we’re both behind on our quota of laughter these past few months. God only knows we’re due a share.”
“But this afternoon I’m leaving,” she said. “I have to go home to my mother. To my clinic.”
“To your life,” he finished for her. “I wish it could be different, but we both know it’s the right thing. Me and you together—it’s something to fill a need, that’s all. It could never work out long-term. I think we both know that.”
It hurt to say those words, hurt to know that they were true. Because impossible as it was, he wanted her at his side—not in a place like Rimrock County, but in a community with all the advantages and comforts she deserved. The trouble was, though, back in her city she had friends and family and her own expectations about the kind of man she would accept. None of which had anything to do with some shell-shocked reject who might easily end up out of work and on the street.
“I know it, but I want…” She squeezed him tight around the middle. “I need…”
She sighed and let him go. “I need to grow up, that’s what. This is crazy, thinking there’s some way for us…Even if it weren’t for the logistics, Jay…I’m as barren as this desert, and twice as prickly.”
“Prickly?” he asked. “You? Maybe by Houston standards, but you can’t hold a candle to the average Rimrock County resident. Or its vegetation.”
He started dressing as she did the same. Once they had finished he added, “And the desert isn’t barren, Dana. Come out here a minute. Let me show you.”
He took her outside, where the air was heating, then moved to the ladder at the back of the RV. “Climb it,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
The Salt Maiden Page 19
