Perfect Family (23 page)

The tension was as thick as smoke from a forest fire. Marc turned to Jessie. “Did you contact my daughter?”

“I couldn't find her, but I left a message for her to drive back.”

“Good. There will be a lot of press inquiries. We'll have to decide how to handle them.”

“Tell the truth?” she asked with some cynicism.

His smile faded slightly, then returned. “Of course, Jessie.”

He followed Sarah. Jessie kept pace with him. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“You've been wonderful,” he replied warmly. “There is a prescription …”

She looked over to him again. She felt guilty. He must be in pain, and he would be in more pain later. “I'm sorry,” she said. She wanted to add that she'd been angry for Ross, but how could she judge, or even question, the merits of Marc's suspicions. She was a stranger to the family, and she was discovering that this family, at least, had their share of secrets.

She shivered, and his good hand took hers. He'd noticed her unease, of course. That was another thing. She apparently was as readable as a first-grade primer while everyone else seemed firmly masked.

First-grade primer
. Jessie had given little thought to that part of her father's legacy. But now she recalled all those questions about her father, whether he had left her anything. She thought then they meant something that would confirm her identity. Now she wondered.

She immediately called herself a fool. Yet for some reason the idea nagged at her as Sarah drove down the main road toward the ranch. So did the idea of Ross at some office, defending himself against an accusation that he might have tried to kill his cousin. Her stomach knotted at the very thought.

She would wait at the ranch until he returned. And where was Alex? He always seemed to be around. But not apparently when he was needed. And whose side would he take in this? Would he also suspect Ross?

After a short stop at a pharmacy, Jessie drove them back to the ranch. Marc was silent and so was she. Until now, she'd liked him. Now she felt like an adversary.

Samantha was waiting on the porch. She'd obviously been informed about the accident. She swept down the stairs and into Marc's embrace. His good arm went around her, and Samantha saw him wince. It was a nice gesture, comforting her despite the fact that her embrace obviously pained him. She also saw another side of the aloof Samantha. Warm. Worried.

Had she been wrong to blame Marc? Perhaps he did have reason to …

Timber was also waiting. He had watched steadily as people left the car. When Ross did not, his head drooped. Jessie went over and stooped beside him. “He'll be home soon,” she said. The animal's tail wagged halfheartedly.

“He won't let anyone else do that,” Sarah said. She looked tired, even a little defeated.

“I've always been good with dogs,” Jessie said. “I like them and they seem to know it.” She put an arm around Sarah's shoulders. “You need a cup of coffee.”

“I need a whiskey,” Sarah corrected. “And so do you.”

Marc thanked Sarah, then disappeared with Samantha into the bedroom they used. Jessie poured a glass of whiskey for Sarah and a glass of red wine for herself.

Sarah slumped into a chair. “You don't have to stay, Jessie.”

“I want to,” she replied. “Why would Marc even suggest Ross could be involved?” She'd asked the question to no avail earlier. Now she wanted to know. She was tired of mysteries.

Sarah hesitated. “They've had heated battles about the ranch. Marc believes that if Ross leaves, I'll agree to sell the ranch. And Marc hunts on this land. Ross doesn't like it. The truth is they've never liked—or trusted—each other, and now they both are a danger to what the other wants.”

Another reason to like Ross. Jessie loathed hunting. “How has Ross managed to keep his position here?”

“Now that's complicated,” Sarah said with a smile. “For one thing, the others realized they couldn't do any better than Ross. He's superb at what he does. He made a fine profit before the cattle market went to hell, and Halden was only too happy to let someone else be responsible for the ranch. In fact, that's one of the problems between Ross and Marc. Halden always liked Ross, admired his skill with horses. Said he had the Clements touch even if he wasn't one. Marc always craved his father's approval and he resented Ross. Marc felt he never measured up no matter how high he climbed in politics. I think he's jealous that his father puts so much faith in Ross.”

Sarah took a sip of the whiskey and continued. “Halden and I had the votes to give Ross a long-term contract—which, considering the family rivalries, he demanded. Marc was not happy about it. It wasn't until the last few months that my brother started to bend on selling the ranch and that's because he doesn't have the strength to fight both his sons.”

Jessie thought about everything that had been said. “Do you think Marc was hunting today?”

“I doubt it. It's out of season and he's been careful about his image in the past few years.”

“Then why would he take a rifle?”

“Target practice. Protection against snakes.” She shrugged. “Ross usually takes a rifle himself for that reason.”

“Why would he possibly think Ross could be responsible for that shot?”

“Jessie, there's nothing Marc would like better than to get Ross fired. He believes Ross is the only chance the Sunset has to survive as a working ranch, that I'll vote to sell if Ross goes.”

Jessie absorbed that. “Wishful thinking on his part?”

“Could be. He might really believe it. Marc has a tendency to believe what he wants to believe.”

“Not a good trait for a senator.”

“Oh, Marc would probably make a good senator. He pays attention to polls, and he has an instinct for what people want.”

Jessie raised an eyebrow. “Damning with faint praise?”

Sarah chuckled. “I really didn't mean to be uncharitable. He does have some principles.”

Jessie shook her head. “I'm confused.”

“We're a confusing family. But I suppose all families are.”

“I wouldn't know,” Jessie said.

Sarah sighed. “I know. We must all seem a bit strange. But we do all care about you. We want to make it up to you … everything your father lost.”

Jessie was wondering whether she wanted anything made up. Since she'd been “found,” she'd been burglarized, lost in the mountains, her store vandalized. Her privacy had been invaded, and she'd felt that someone had been watching her.

Perfect family indeed
.

And yet … she was beginning to feel just a tiny part of it. And that part felt natural. Right.

She walked over to the window. The land called to her in a way nothing had before. Because it was a part of her, part of her heritage?

Timber was still waiting. Head alert. Looking out toward the drive. She suspected he would sit there until Ross arrived.

And so would she.

thirteen

Ross had felt this way before. Rebellious. Angry. But now he'd learned to control his temper.

Or at least he thought he had.

“Do you have a rifle?” the cop asked.

“Of course I do,” he shot back. “Name me someone over sixteen in the state who doesn't.”

“Can we see it?”

“If you want to know whether it's been fired recently, yes it has.”

A raised eyebrow met his declaration.

“Not at the congressman. You'll find a headless rattler near the Saddle. And a shell.”

“That's real convenient.”

“If I'd meant to shoot Marc Clements, he would be dead,” Ross said.

“We can't be perfect all the time,” one of the deputies said acidly.

“I didn't say I was perfect. I said I'm a good shot.”

“Yeah, we know that,” the other deputy said. “We also know you were a real hellion as a kid.”

“Juvenile is the key word,” Ross said. “I'm sure you checked and know damned well I haven't picked up as much as a traffic ticket since.”

“Let's see if I remember right. Car theft. Assault, including one on the congressman.”

“He wasn't a congressman then.”

“Oh yeah, and a rape. You were a busy boy.”

Ross had known that would be revisited. “The charges were dropped.”

“They often are when the victim is threatened.”

Ross didn't reply. They wanted to think he was guilty. He wondered what Marc had told them.

“Nothing to say?”

“Nothing you want to hear.”

“Maybe a night in jail will make you more talkative.”

“Are you going to charge me with something? Otherwise, I'm walking out of here. Now.”

The cop frowned. “Don't clean that rifle. We'll be out later to look at it.”

“Bring a search warrant.” Ross knew his temper was ready to explode. Damn Marc anyway.

“We'll do it.”

Ross rose. He needed to get the hell out of there.

He also knew he'd become a prime suspect.

Walking out of the office, he recalled Jessie's startled look when Marc as much as accused him of the shooting, remembered the exclamation she'd made. For an instant, she'd believed it.

But then why shouldn't she? He was part Apache, wasn't he? The son of an alcoholic ne'er-do-well? Bad blood. Marc had been saying that for years. Ross had wanted to do real damage to Marc years ago when he'd called Ross a rapist. Only Sarah's intervention with both the law and family had saved him then, but not until he'd spent several weeks in jail. Sarah had believed him and convinced everyone else. Everyone except Marc.

He owed Sarah.

And now the old story of the rape had surfaced again. And probably so would the rumors. It was all he needed now.

Jessie was looking through a window when an unfamiliar, run-down truck pulled up in front of Ross's house. Ross stepped out and with his own unique grace took the few steps to the porch. Timber, who had been waiting patiently, made a dash to his side, but Ross paid no attention. Neither did he look toward the larger ranch house. He seemed only intent to get inside his own.

She turned toward Sarah. “He's back.”

“Of course, he's back,” Sarah said. “The police had no reason to keep him.”

But despite her words, Jessie saw tension ease in her shoulders. “I'll go, then,” Jessie said. “I think I have a dinner date with Alex.”

“Rosa said his office called. He's in court in Flagstaff. He's coming by here as soon as he's finished. Why don't you wait here for him?”

“I'm not dressed for dinner,” she said. At least not with Alex. She would be just fine for Ross. The realization did not endear Alex to her. Even after Marc's insinuations, she wanted to be with Ross. She wanted it very much.

Marc was in the bedroom he shared with his wife. Samantha hadn't appeared since they'd climbed the stairs to their wing of the house, and neither had Halden.

Jessie tried to think of something other than the earlier ugly scene. She turned her attention to the kitchen. Rosa was cooking something that smelled wonderful.

Jessie couldn't care less about Alex or about cooking. She wanted to go over and talk to Ross, to let him know she didn't believe a word of Marc's garbage. But why would he care?

The unfamiliar truck that had brought him disappeared down the road. Some friend, she supposed. Friends like those she'd met last night. Friends she wished she knew more about. Because then perhaps she would learn more about him.

“Will you ask Ross to come over for supper?” Sarah said.

Jessie looked at her suspiciously. “Why don't
you?
”

“Somehow I don't think I would have the same influence. I'm his mother. And you …” Her voice trailed off.

“And
me?
” Jessie asked dubiously.

“He likes you.”

“How can you tell?”

Sarah finally smiled. “It's difficult at times, but I
can
tell.”

Jessie hesitated. Although his face had been turned away when he'd arrived, she could sense his glowering mood even from a distance. Resentment had been clear in the taut set of his shoulders. She didn't blame him. What had happened was unfair. It had not been right. Indignation on his behalf flooded her.

The only problem was that she didn't think he would appreciate her indignation.

She looked at her watch. They had gone riding at noon, returned about two. It was after seven now. So much had happened in a few hours. So many … feelings unveiled. More secrets. “I'll tell him about supper. And that Alex is on his way,” she said, finally deciding to err on the side of action rather than caution.

Sarah sank down in a chair. “Thank you,” she said. “He will probably tell you to leave, but … he needs someone who believes in him.”

The statement surprised her. Ross Macleod didn't seem to need anyone. Much less someone who believed in him. He didn't seem to care what anyone thought. Which was, she supposed, why he had put in so few appearances at the family reunion.

Reluctantly, she opened the door and took the path. She'd never been inside Ross's house and she wondered now how he lived.

She knocked at the screen door. The other door was open, and she heard the rush of Timber's feet and his ferocious bark. As the dog lunged against the door, she thought Ben could certainly take lessons from him.
Her
burglar would have been in a different county instead of rummaging among her belongings.

“Timber!” Ross's voice was sharp. The dog stopped immediately and sat.

But his master didn't appear at the door. Only his voice emerged from the interior. “Go away, Sarah.”

“It's not Sarah.”

There was a silence, then footsteps. Ross stood at the door. “Only Sarah isn't afraid of Timber.”

“Is that why you have him?”