Perfect Family (29 page)

Sarah nodded.

“I don't want that kind of power,” Jessie said. “This family owes me nothing. My father surrendered any right to it when he left the ranch.”

“Not according to the will. My father hoped he would return.”

“He was still alive then?”

“Yes. He was nearly eighty then. I think losing two more sons … killed him. He died ten months after Heath died and Harding disappeared. It broke his heart, what was left after Mother died.”

“Mary Louise?”

“Yes. She was always the strength of the family. She was so determined to keep the family together, she insisted early on the terms of my father's will.”

“When did she die?”

“Just a few months before my father. She'd been ill, or she might have found a way to prevent …” Sarah stopped abruptly.

“Prevent what?” Jessie asked impatiently. “Don't you think it's time for me to know?”

Sarah went over to the window and looked out. “For years,” she said with a sigh, “we lived together. My husband was foreman when we were married, and I moved with him into the house Ross has now. Your father and Lori lived in this house, as did Halden and his wife and children.

“Then Heath came home a year after Lori had married your father. He'd been badly wounded and was in a hospital in England for months.”

Jessie saw Sarah's hand tighten on the windowsill. After a moment of strained silence, she continued, “When Heath came home, he was angry and bitter. He didn't want to work on the ranch. He didn't want to do anything. He drank and raised hell. One time he almost set the barn on fire, and our father told him to straighten up or get out. He got out. No one heard from him for three years, then he returned home, said he wanted to settle down and take his place in the business. My father was happy. The prodigal had returned.”

Sarah sat down. Her mouth was grim.

Jessie waited silently. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the rest of the story.

Finally, Sarah continued wearily. “Harding was happy, too. He'd felt guilty about marrying Lori, but she'd told him that Heath had broken it off.”

She looked up at Jessie, her eyes begging her to understand. “Heath and Hugh had been your father's heroes. He worshiped both of them, and when Heath first came home, it was your father who kept making excuses for him. He was so pleased when Heath returned the second time, he was willing to give up his own position on the ranch. But Heath wasn't home to work. He was home to get money. He wanted Father to sell part of the ranch and give him his share.
His share
. He didn't care about the ranch or anyone on it. When Father wouldn't agree, Heath decided he would take what he felt was due him.

“He was asked to make delivery of a herd and pick up the money. Instead of bringing it back, he secretly invested it in an offshore oil company started by a war buddy; he'd been promised a partnership if he could come up with some financing.

“A week later, your father went to the bank to get the payroll—the hands all wanted cash—and discovered that not only was the money from the herd not deposited but most of the funds left in the account had been withdrawn.”

Sarah leaned against the windowsill. “We knew your father went to the bank. We knew he talked to the manager. That's the last time anyone saw him. I can only imagine that he tried to find Heath. No one knows what happened then.”

Jessie's heart was beating loud. She knew that a major part of the story was not yet told. “And Lori?”

“She was gone. Her jewelry, some of her clothes. She left a note, saying she was going with Heath.”

Jessie slowly expelled breath she hadn't realized was bottled in her throat. She felt tears welling in back of her eyes. Her father. Betrayed by a brother he trusted and a wife he loved. More than life, Sarah had said.

“Go on,” she said as Sarah faltered, her words dying away.

“We found a note from Heath saying he was leaving with Lori,” she said, “just as the sheriff came and told us there had been a fire at our Oak Creek cabin. Two bodies had been found there. They identified Heath by his class ring and Lori by her wedding ring. We never saw Harding again.”

seventeen

Jessie couldn't do anything but stare at her, the last words ringing in her head.
We never saw Harding again
.

Jessie didn't ask the question that came to the forefront of her mind. She knew that it had been pricking around before. But now she couldn't disregard the implications.

Had her father had anything to do with the fire? She couldn't force herself to put it any other way. She couldn't allow herself to consider the word
murder
.

But the words didn't come, and Sarah had looked very tired. For the first time, she looked every year of her age.

“You'll have to excuse me,” Sarah said. She had leaned against the wall for a moment, obviously steadying herself. “I think I need some rest.”

“Of course,” Jessie said, feeling shaky herself.

“I had hoped we could go for a ride, but perhaps … tomorrow.”

“I would like that,” Jessie said, wondering whether the older woman would be up to it then, either.

“Why don't you go ahead and take a horse,” Sarah said. “Ross can go with you. Supper will be at seven.”

She started to leave, then stopped at the door. “Thank you for coming, Jessie. You can't know how much it means to me.”

Jessie sat down on the bed as the door closed behind Sarah. While she'd known that something terrible must have happened to make her father leave everything he knew and loved, she'd tried to avoid the notion that it was anything
he'd
done. Now she wasn't so sure. Could he have had something to do with the fire? With the deaths of his wife and brother?

She shivered and felt herself crying inside for the young man her father had been.
He loved her more than life
.

Betrayed not only by a wife he adored, but also by an older brother he'd made into a hero.

She realized now why he'd never smiled, why he'd preferred the bottle to life. She only wished that she'd been … more important to him. Perhaps he hadn't been able to let anyone be that important again.

Ben whined, and she remembered he hadn't been for a walk. She took him down the steps to the front and walked him over to the paddock. There were several horses munching grass. None of them paid any attention to either of them. She wondered whether her father used to walk over here and lean over the fence.

Grief swelled inside her. She felt as if she'd just lost her father. His death was as fresh to her now as it had been the day of the funeral.

She looked out over the rock formations. It was afternoon; dusk was several hours off.

She wanted to ride back to the rock formation called the Saddle and look below as she had with Sarah.

Ross's pickup was gone. She didn't know whether Sarah had known that. It didn't matter, though. In fact, she preferred riding alone at the moment. She
had
to be alone. She wanted to see the Sunset as her father had seen it.

Jessie took Ben up to her room. She'd brought his favorite blanket and she placed it on the floor. “I'll be back soon,” she said. She hated to leave him, but she feared that his thick fur would pick up needles from cactus. Or that he might have a personal encounter with a snake. As long as he had the blanket, he'd know he was safe.

She changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, pulled on a pair of boots she'd purchased in Atlanta, then reassured Ben once more. She took the steps two at a time, eager now to be on a horse.

Dan'l was in the stables.

“Sarah suggested I go for a ride,” she said, fudging the truth only a little. “Can you suggest a horse?”

“Carefree is fine now,” he offered. “Like to try him again?” Then he hesitated.

She knew he was thinking of Ross and didn't want to give him a chance to think about it. “That would be great,” she replied. At least, she would know this time what to expect.

She watched as he saddled the horse. He offered to help her mount, but she easily swung up into the saddle.

“I'll be back in a couple of hours,” she said. “Before dark.”

“I'll come looking for you if you're not,” he said.

“Not to worry,” she said, adjusting her body to the saddle. She guided the horse out of the barn and down the road. Carefree didn't need much urging. In several moments, they were cantering toward the Saddle.

She felt the breeze against her face, fully aware it was cooling moisture on her cheeks. Her eyes hurt, but the wind was cleansing. She wondered if her father had ever wanted to come back, whether he missed the red rock and the yucca and the junipers.

Following the route she and Sarah had taken days ago, she rode toward the Saddle and found the path upward without trouble. She guided the horse up the steep trail, letting him do most of the work. This time she knew not to yell
whoa
, and to hold the reins lightly. Carefree knew what to do far better than she.

Jessie reached the top and dismounted. She went to where she and Sarah had stood and looked down at the ranch below. She used a hand to wipe a tear from her face. “I'm here, Daddy,” she said. “Part of you came back.”

She tried to see him as a young man. A man in love. A man doing what he loved, and that apparently had been ranching. Where had all that youth and hope gone? Because it had been long gone when she knew him. How much courage had it taken to keep her when her mother deserted them? Had he ever even loved her mother? He'd never mentioned either her mother or Lori.

She wished she'd known him better.

“I loved you,” she whispered to the wind. “I will always love you.”

Then she saw movement below. A truck pulling into the road to the ranch. Ross. She suspected he wouldn't be happy that she'd taken one of his horses. Well, that was his problem. She turned and looked in another direction, at the vast panorama. The clear sky was darkening as it often did in late afternoon, and the sun looked like molten gold.

Her roots lay here in the rough soil, the rocky terrain, in the splendid hills and glorious red rock formations. For the first time, she felt close to her father, as if he were looking down at her with an approval she'd never received as a child.

She knew then that she could never vote to sell the Sunset.

She didn't know how long she lingered. An hour, perhaps. So many memories flashed through her mind, so many images. She was filled with feelings and emotions so tumultuous, so strong that they physically hurt.

She turned to go when she heard the whinny of another horse. For a moment, she felt a shiver of fear. She was out here alone. But any apprehension faded when she saw Ross appear on the trail. For a moment, her chest tightened, but then she slowly relaxed. She reminded herself that she wasn't going to run any longer. Not from fear. Not from uncertainty.

Ross's expression, though, was enough to put the fear of God into anyone. He glowered at her as he slid down from the horse.

“Dammit,” he said in a low, furious voice. “Don't you have any sense?”

She bristled. “Sarah said …”

“I don't give a damn what Sarah said.” He stalked over to her, his eyes furious.

“Your horse is perfectly fine,” she defended herself, thinking he was afraid she might hurt the horse again. “Dan'l said …”

“I'm not worried about the horse,” he said, interrupting her for the second time.

The admission stunned her. That was all she thought he cared about. Her chin lifted. “I can take care of myself,” she said. “I've been doing it since I was seventeen.”

“Yeah,” he said sarcastically. “That's why you got lost last week.” His lips thinned as he added, “And there's some maniac running around with a rifle. I'm sure Sarah did
not
mean for you to go riding alone.”

“According to you, I'm a part owner,” she said stiffly. “I have the right to go riding whenever …”

She didn't have a chance to continue. He was looming over her, his eyes angry, and his body tense. She was going to step back when his hand reached out. His fingers were like steel around her wrists.

“Dammit, Jessie, watch it.”

She looked behind her. The ground behind her sloped to a steep decline. She had unconsciously stepped back further than she'd thought.

He drew her away from the edge, and she was in his arms, his lips pressed down on hers. Hard and hot and angry. Her own lips responded, partly out of the realization of how she'd nearly tumbled off the side of a cliff. Whether it was fear or grief or passion, her entire body responded to his touch. She felt as if he'd sparked a thousand tiny charges inside her.

She found herself clinging to him, to his strength. His hard-muscled thighs pressed against hers and strong, tanned arms still held on to her.

He took his lips from hers. “Ah, Jessie,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

Her heart started beating strongly. The very air was suddenly electrified. It crackled. Hissed. Sparked.

Then his lips brushed against hers, and his fingers ran up and down her arms in caressingly sensuous trails. The air around them turned as molten as that in the heart of a volcano.

The grief she'd just felt, still felt, turned into desperate need. She'd grieved alone as a girl. More than grieved because she'd felt so much guilt. And she'd never cried. She'd held it all inside until today. And now Ross was here, and somehow she felt connected to him in a way she'd never known before.

Yet he was fighting the attraction between them. She could tell it in the tension of his body. She didn't understand why. She only knew she needed him at this moment, needed to fill the emptiness she'd felt since hearing at least part of her father's history. His lips slipped away, and her head somehow relaxed against his chest, against the solid strength.