by Ann Major
“That would be lovely, Sam. I’ll look forward to seeing the two of you.”
“It looks incredibly historic,” Sam said after he finished reading the plaque in front of the museum. “I can’t believe after all that’s happened—I mean the fires, Cherry and Caesar—that it’s this near completion. I wish Bobby Joe hadn’t decided to stay at the ranch house. He loves history.”
Lizzy smiled. “It’s the old carriage house, you know. Joanne said it would be perfect for the museum.”
“Gussied up a bunch.”
“The wonders of paint,” Lizzy said.
“And money,” Sam countered with a warm smile.
She tucked her arm through his. She’d missed Sam. That was the trouble with growing up. You left people who were dear to you behind. When neither person was good about keeping in touch, you lost each other.
The white, two-story museum beneath the shade of the tall live-oak trees looked inviting as they walked up the sidewalk arm in arm, their faces dappled by the spreading shadows of the live-oak branches.
“I like the courtyard area,” he said, noting the grassy lawn shimmering in the sunlight around back.
“We’re going to put some old buggies and wagons out there. We’ll have information stations, similar to those found in zoos that will tell the history of the ranch as visitors wander the courtyard. Just wait until you see the murals.”
When they went inside, the wooden floors creaked. Lizzy expected Walker or Mark to greet her, but the three large rooms painted with brilliant, lively murals that depicted the ranch’s history, were empty. They went through the rooms, their eyes lifted, staring up at the paintings.
“They’re wonderful,” Sam said. “Impressive.”
“Mark’s a very sensitive artist. He studied in Mexico.”
“Looks like he was influenced by Diego Rivera. Too bad so many of the ranch’s artifacts are in archives or in other museums,” Sam said.
“Well, for now we have the sculptures of the family, an audio tour and a video. It will take a visitor two hours to tour the museum. Oh, I found a wonderful book of photographs of the ranch in the library by Electra Scott. We’re going to put the book in a lighted case and leave it open. Each month the curator will flip to a new page.”
Looking back, Lizzy would never be able to remember the exact moment she realized that she and Sam weren’t alone in the building. Maybe she heard a voice or a whisper. Maybe she simply knew. Maybe Walker simply chose this moment and this way of telling her himself.
As she approached the little room that was to be the museum office and stock room, which was near the glass case that would hold the items to be sold, she heard whispers. Then papers rustled, and a chair squeaked in the stock room.
“Hello?” she called, her voice echoing strangely.
A chair crashed to the floor. Suddenly Mark and Walker emerged, their faces darkly flushed. Mark’s shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way to his throat.
Lizzy swallowed. Had Daddy caught them together like this?
After a long moment, Lizzy went up to them and took their hands in hers and spoke as if nothing was wrong. “The murals are too wonderful for words. You’ve both done a great job.”
Walker’s eyes met hers. She saw his love for her as well as his love for Mark. For the first time, she saw the man he really was.
She leaned into her tall brother and whispered against his ear, “Nothing has changed. Not really. Not for me.” Then she smiled at Mark.
“You’re wrong,” Walker said gently. “Everything has changed for me. I don’t have to live a lie. At least not with you. And that’s everything to me. Too many people are forced to live lies.”
She turned to introduce Mark to Sam and was surprised that Sam had left without her.
Feeling rejected and embarrassed for Walker’s sake, she ran toward the door. This sort of thing must be harder for men, she thought. But truth was truth. One had to accept it.
“Sam?” she called out when she didn’t see him.
Cole drove up in a swirl of caliche dust and jumped out of the black truck. His face was dark with strain. “Lizzy. Finally. I’ve been looking everywhere. Called you on your cell.”
“I guess I left it in my car.”
“It’s your father—” he said and broke off.
A thick silence fell between them, but he said nothing more.
“Is he—” She couldn’t finish her question.
His handsome face blurred as dread slithered through her.
“But they moved him out of ICU!” she murmured. “He was getting better!”
When Cole still didn’t answer, she sucked in air as panic raced through her. Then she hurtled into his arms.
“We aren’t supposed to touch,” he muttered.
“Damn you. Just hold me.”
“There, there, Lizzy,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “You wouldn’t have wanted him to go on the way he was, now would you?”
“My mother’s dead and now Daddy, too.”
“Joanne’s fine. I just spoke to her.”
“You don’t understand. You don’t know,” she wailed.
“Know what?”
“The truth. About my real mother. Electra Scott.”
He stiffened. Then she told him everything she’d learned about her biological mother through broken sobs, and he went on holding her and caressing her. Finally, when she quieted, she let him go.
“I’ll call Mother…. I—I mean Joanne, as soon as I pull myself together.” She wiped at her eyes and cheeks with the back of her hands.
“But are you going to be all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Then Sam came around from the back of courtyard, and she jumped guiltily away from Cole. Not that it wasn’t natural for him to comfort her under the circumstances. Even so, she felt her cheeks flame as Cole told him about Caesar.
“You tell Walker, and I’ll drive Lizzy back to the house,” Sam said, his tone grave.
Lizzy started to object. She wanted to be with Cole. More than anything she wanted to be with Cole.
But she turned and followed Sam to his truck.
Lizzy slipped into the darkened horse barn and then stood still, unable to see much inside the closed building after the bright sunlight outside. So, she just stood there, waiting for her eyes to adjust, listening to the familiar sounds of the horses blowing and snorting inside their stalls.
Although she knew her father was dead, the reality of it hadn’t really sunk in yet. Her mind and heart were numb. Even so, she knew that something terrible, something irrevocable had happened to him, and she felt an overpowering need to be with him, a need to run into her daddy’s strong arms as she had when she’d been a frightened little girl.
He’d loved the horse barn. It was his favorite place on the whole ranch. If his soul was anywhere, she would find him in the barn.
Apparently Kinky had reacted to the terrible news the same way she had because he was mucking out a stall, a job he never did. When he heard her, he came out with his pitchfork, took off his hat and smiled at her sadly.
“Your daddy’s got some big boots that need filling, girl. It’ll be a spell before people get used to his being gone.”
She moved farther inside the barn. The names of the horses were on the doors of the stalls. She paced back and forth, touching each name with her hand: Ringo, Sleepy, Drake and Star.
“Which one is Star?”
“Star is that sweet gray gal with the white star on her forehead.”
Lizzy turned and smiled at the mare, who was watching her, too.
“Like a lot of women, she loves attention,” Kinky said. “Pet her.”
Lizzy went up to Star and began stroking her. “Remember how I was always so afraid of horses when I was a little girl,” Lizzy said.
“You took more than your share of falls.”
The mare nuzzled Lizzy’s hair. “She won’t bite, will she? I haven’t got a finger to spare.”
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nbsp; “She’s the gentlest, sweetest mare we got. You just keep on talking to her and petting her, and she’ll treat you right.”
Lizzy went on stroking the animal. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“You could make sure everybody has water. The buckets are over there by the door.”
“Sure.”
Lizzy left Star and did barn chores for nearly an hour, glad to have physical work like carrying water buckets to distract her. When she was done with that task, Kinky tied Star to a post so Lizzy could brush and comb her and spray her for flies.
“She’d let you do that all day,” Kinky said when Lizzy set the brush and comb down.
“What if I took her out on a short ride?”
“Mr. Cole wouldn’t like it.”
Lizzy bristled. “But Daddy would. Remember how he always wanted me to be a good rider.”
“But you haven’t ridden in a long time, honey. I don’t think you ought to ride alone, especially not the first time…and when you’re upset. Besides, your uncle B.B.’s got some brand-new hunters on his lease.”
“I’ve got to do this for Daddy.”
“If you’re set on this, at least let me go with you.”
“I need to be alone right now, Kinky.”
“Sometimes you’re as stubborn as your father, girl. It wasn’t his best trait, you know.”
His eyes narrowed and his bottom lip protruded when she lugged Star’s equipment from the tack room and began to tack her up. Nor did he offer to help—not with the saddle blanket, nor the saddle, not even when she struggled to lift it. Nor with the bridle or the bit, either.
When she kissed Star on the nose before slinging herself into the saddle and urging the animal out of the barn, Kinky growled, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Thanks for all the help,” she teased above the clatter of hooves on concrete as she leaned forward and patted Star on the neck. “And don’t you dare tell Cole.”
“Keep her away from water, you hear? Don’t try to swim her. Water’s the only thing that spooks her. Took her to the beach once. Boy did the surf make her crazy.”
Naturally Lizzy was a little nervous because she hadn’t ridden in so long, and because she harbored a secret prejudice that horses were stupid and tricky and hated her. Kinky’s being so against her riding and his warnings didn’t help any.
Soon, however, the feel of the leather reins lying lightly in her fingers reminded her of whom she was supposed to be—a Kemble, Caesar Kemble’s daughter. She dug her feet into the stirrups, thrust her chin out and sat a little straighter in the saddle.
I can do this!
The sight of Star’s gray ears flicking back and forth, the powerful neck bobbing in front of her and her mane bouncing as the mare’s easy, rhythmic gait carried them along began to feel so good and so right she wanted to lift her face to the sun and shout, “Look at me, Daddy! Look at me! I can do it!”
Maybe he could see her. Maybe he knew.
“You be back before dark, you hear,” Kinky shouted from the barn, “Or Mr. Cole will have my hide.”
“Don’t you dare tell Cole. He’s not in charge of me. In fact he wants nothing to do with me.”
“He wants too much to do with you, girl. That’s his whole damn problem.”
It was a beautiful afternoon, warm and bright and still, so still sounds traveled well. Lizzy chose to follow one of Joanne’s meandering golf cart trails that cut through thick tangles of brush. Occasionally they came to a break in the trees, and she spotted javalina once, then a cautious red fox. She saw deer, cattle and a flock of turkeys, too.
Her instinct to ride out alone in the brush country with just the brush and the grass and sky turned out to be just what she needed. The emptiness of the wildness felt so elemental, she could almost breathe in the power off the land. The smell of the woods and grass and the sightings of the critters lifted her and made her know that her problems were pretty small in the scheme of things. She remembered how Daddy used to ride out alone when he was tense, and how he’d always come back in a better mood.
She began to relax a little. Maybe because she was alone and without a judgmental audience, Lizzy enjoyed riding for the first time in her life. As a child, she’d always had her father along, an instructor, or Mia, or someone else who constantly told her what she was doing wrong.
Always she’d been compared to Mia, who’d been fearless and show-offy. Mia, who’d always angled to ride the boldest horse instead of the gentlest. Mia, who’d been a faultless rider. Well, Mia was gone, and so was Daddy.
“It’s just you and me now, Star. We don’t have to compete with Mia or please Daddy. We can just be ourselves and ride the way we want to.”
Star plodded doggedly along the golf cart trail.
What if we went faster? What if we cantered? Could I?
Lizzy’s heart did a double backflip. She’d always hated to trot or canter.
I can do it!
Taking a deep breath, she dug her feet into the stirrups and Star surged forward. The mare trotted a short distance and then sprang into an all-out gallop. Fifteen seconds into the mad run, Lizzy remembered to breathe. Another fifteen seconds, and Lizzy’s fear evaporated. Instead of fear, she felt exultation.
She was flying on Star. They were floating, soaring, and Lizzy was grinning from ear to ear like a thrilled kid. Her hair came loose and streamed behind her. Her T-shirt plastered itself against her breasts even as it filled and ballooned up and down the length of her spine.
“I like to ride so fast, I get bugs in my teeth,” Mia used to brag.
Yes! Yes! I can do this! I’m doing it! Just like you, Mia!
Mesquite and live oak whizzed past Lizzy in a gray-green blur as the mare’s hoofs thudded against the hard earth. Instead of reining Star in, Lizzy let out a couple of Indian war whoops.
Then suddenly she heard the thunder of hooves pulsing on the trail behind them. Instantly Star’s head turned and her ears pricked backward. Then a terrified whinny rang out.
Someone was chasing her, probably Cole. No doubt Kinky hadn’t wasted a minute tattling on her on his cell phone, and Cole had come after her.
She swiveled in her saddle and shouted, “Cole?”
But he didn’t answer her, and she didn’t spot him because the brush was dense. Perhaps he wasn’t that close after all. She turned back around, feeling nervous suddenly.
What if it wasn’t Cole? For some reason the thought spooked her. Leaning forward, she stood up in her stirrups and urged Star faster.
A shot rang behind her, and bits of bark burst from the trunk of the oak tree beside the path and hit her cheek, causing drops of blood to spatter on her T-shirt. Had she accidentally ridden onto Uncle B.B.’s hunting lease? Another shot hit a mesquite tree.
She splashed through a shallow creek, and Star rolled her eyes back and ran like the wind.
She heard the unmistakable crack of a gun a third time.
Terror zigzagged through Lizzy as she fought to hang on.
“Is that fried chicken I smell?” Cole said, forcing a smile into his deep voice as he entered the kitchen. The truth was he was worried. He didn’t know where he’d been or what he’d done since he’d left Lizzy and Sam at the museum. When he’d come to his senses he’d been sitting in his truck parked along the side of the private, rarely traveled ranch road near the Cameron pens.
He’d wanted to stay with Lizzy after he’d told her the bad news. Now he was glad he hadn’t.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a bear,” Cole said. He pulled back a chair and sat down at the table, staring gloomily at the checkered tablecloth. “Where’s Lizzy?”
Sy’rai came out of the kitchen and put her hands on her plump hips. “Don’t you have eyes in your head, Mr. Cole? Is that mud and sand I see on my freshly mopped kitchen floor?”
Cole frowned at the bits of mud and grass all over the glossy red concrete floor and got up.
It hadn’t rained in a spell. Where the
hell had he been? What had he done?
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll get a broom.”
When he’d come to in his truck, his glove compartment had been open, and he’d been staring at a ticket to Nicaragua with his name on it. According to the ticket he’d flown to the Central American country last April—six and a half months ago.
How could he forget something like that?
“No, I’ll get a broom,” Sy’rai was saying huffily as she slapped a knife on the table in front of him. “You’ll take this and go outside and scrape your boots.”
“Where’s Lizzy?” he asked again.
“Kinky said she went riding.”
“Riding? On a horse?”
Sy’rai stared at him. “What else?”
“Alone? And Kinky let her?”
Cole didn’t understand the sudden dread that consumed him, the same dread he’d felt when he’d stared at the ticket. It was like he knew something he didn’t know. “When?”
“Four o’clock. He offered to go with her, but she wouldn’t let him. She was pretty upset about Mr. Caesar.”
So the hell was he, Cole realized, surprised. Joanne had said the doctor said it was weird the way Caesar had died. But she hadn’t elaborated.
He glanced at his watch. “And she’s not back?” He stared broodingly out the window. The last rays of the sun were pink in the clattering palm fronds. It would be dark soon.
Without another word, he stormed out of the kitchen, punching the number of Kinky’s cell as he went, not caring that he was leaving bits of caked mud and sand in his wake or that Sy’rai was shaking her head at him again.
When Kinky answered on the fourth ring, Cole barked, “Get to the barn and see if Lizzy’s back yet.”
“I can tell you she ain’t because I’m at the barn, and Star’s stall is empty. Funny thing, though, somebody took Ringo out and didn’t unsaddle him. He’s lathered up, too.”
“I don’t give a damn about Ringo. Just get as many men to the barn as you can. I want some on horseback and some in trucks. We’ll need flashlights and floodlights. We’ve got to find her fast.”
