She jammed the little car into Reverse, stepped out and popped the emergency brake. And rolled that lava rock with the toe of her boot until it hit the gas pedal. As she calmly walked to her pickup, Calla heard Clark’s high-pitched shriek and the sickening crash of his rented car hitting the rimrock as it bounced toward its watery grave.
“I doubt that’s on your list of approved roads, Clark,” she said as she stepped up into her truck.
She didn’t see the white pickup, the newer match to her own, until it stopped in a skid next
to
her. Henry leapt from the driver’s seat and stalked around to her window. He didn’t seem to notice the commotion going on
at
the other end of the parking lot. The desk clerk, along with a handful of other motel occupants, had come out to gape over the edge of the rimrock cliff
at
Clark’s car, which was now floating downriver toward Boise.
“Are you all right?” he inquired tersely when Calla rolled down her window and gave him a shining smile.
“How did you get your truck started?” she asked.
“I hot-wired it,” Henry said. He was searching her face, ignoring Clark’s anguished wailing in the background. “Are you all right?”
Calla reached out and touched his face. The muscles in his jaw were set so firmly, Calla wondered if his teeth were going to crack. She soothed the lines across his forehead.
“I’m all right. You forget. I’m the knight in shining armor. I’m always all right.” She glanced over Henry’s shoulder, to where Clark paced furiously back and forth on a short path between Calla and the cliff. He was shouting incoherently at the hapless desk clerk. She returned her gaze to Henry. “Where did you learn to hot-wire a truck?”
“That is hardly an issue right now, is it?” Henry captured her hand and held it away from his face. “I am furious with you,” he said through his clenched teeth.
“I know. I didn’t run over your bare feet back there, did I?”
Henry gave an exasperated grunt. “No, you did not.” For the first time, he appeared
to
notice the tumult Calla’s prenuptial revenge was causing. Without releasing Calla’s hand, he glanced over her shoulder. “What happened
to
Dartmouth? He looks hysterical.”
“His car went over the cliff. And to think he signed that liability waiver.”
Henry appraised her for a moment. “How did his car go over the cliff, Calla?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when we get home. Can we go home now?”
“You don’t need
to
say anything else
to
Clark?” Henry asked her. Calla saw an odd glimmer in his eyes. Suspicion? No, it was pain. Her heart went to her throat. Calla reached out with her other hand.
“I don’t have a single other thing to say
to
Clark. Ever.”
Henry let go of her hand. “Then go home.”
Calla started her pickup. “Aren’t you coming, too?”
“I’ll be along after a while.” He started toward Clark.
“Henry?”
He turned back. “What?”
“Do you want your keys?”
“That would be very convenient, yes.” She handed him his keys and then drove slowly through town toward the ranch.
* * *
Henry surveyed the scene of Calla’s revenge. Paradise’s lone police officer, a frighteningly frail-looking middle-aged man with an enormous gun strapped to his bony hip, had made his way down the block from his office and was now escorting Clark, still ranting, to his police car for questioning.
Henry strode toward the officer, a respectful smile on his face.
“Sir?” He reached out a hand. The policeman took it automatically. Henry felt bones. It was like shaking hands with Barney Fife. “Roy, right? You were at Lester and Helen’s wedding. I ate three pieces of your wife’s pie, darn it. Next time you come out to the ranch, you tell her not to bring any pie. I’m getting as fat as a tick.” Henry plowed every friendly ounce of drawl he could into his well-educated voice. The skinny cop beamed at him.
“Well, I’ll tell her that … uh, I’m sorry? What’s your name again, son? I know you work out there at the McFadden place, right?”
Clark scowled first at the cop and then at Henry.
“What do you want, you son of a bitch?” he growled. “Get out of here. This is none of your business. If you came here to protect her from the consequences of her actions, well, you’re wasting your time.”
What a pompous ass, Henry thought. How had Calla endured the way he talked?
“Geez, Roy.” Henry turned, his hands on his hips, and surveyed the crowd that had gathered from almost every home and business in Paradise to stare at the wreckage left by Clark’s little rented sports car, which, from what Henry could tell from the excited exclamations of the townspeople, was stuck upside down on a willow-wrapped sandbar downriver. “Whatcha got here? Looks like somebody’s car went over the cliff.”
Clark lunged for him. “You son of a bitch.” Roy grabbed at Clark before he reached Henry. Henry was impressed by the strength of the skinny older man. Clark was stopped in his tracks, struggling ineffectively. The action of the officer seemed to inflame Clark further. “It was
Calla.
She pushed my car over the cliff. The
bitch.”
He was screaming now, and the crowd turned with interest toward the noise. Henry looked back at Clark, and narrowed his eyes imperceptibly. How many times had he imagined smashing in that smug yuppie face? Henry wondered. It was going to feel wonderful. Soon, he promised himself. Very soon.
“She pushed your car over the cliff?” Henry raised his eyebrows ironically
at
Roy, who tried to look impassive. “What does Calla weigh, you think Roy? You’ve known her all her life. What, about 120? 130?”
Roy hid a smile.
“She
didn’t
push
it, you idiot. She drove it off the cliff.” Clark was puffed up like a sage hen, all feathers and rage.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken, Clark. Calla has been at the ranch with me. I just left her. This looks like it happened real recently.”
“You’re
lying.
The desk clerk saw her here. She drove my car off the cliff.” Clark looked helplessly toward the river. “I’m going to
kill
her.”
“Clark. You know better than to make threats like that.” Henry shook his head knowingly at the officer, who was taking a keen interest in the exchange. “Especially after what’s been going on around here lately, eh, Roy?”
“What’s been going on lately?” Roy asked.
“Geez, Clark. I thought you would have told him.” Henry shook his head again, wearily. Clark scowled at him in confusion. Henry turned
to
Roy. “Someone has been following Calla, Officer. I think he was from Salt Lake, but I can’t be sure. Big mustache, ‘bout five-ten, five-eleven. Stayed here
at
this motel, didn’t he, Clark? Anyway, Calla has been out of her wits about it. Poor thing. She really is pretty naive, growing up here and taking care of her family all her life, and all. She really hasn’t the kind of experience the rest of us have.”
Roy nodded gravely. “Ain’t that the truth? You say somebody’s been following Calla?” He directed the question
at
Clark, who was staring open-mouthed
at
Henry.
“I … uh…”
“Yep,” Henry said, “she’s been holed up at the ranch. Even went up to cow camp to get away for a while. Scared to death. You ever been up to the McFadden cow camp, Roy? Oh, it’s beautiful up there.”
“No, I never did. I went hunting with Lester a couple years back and we stayed at the Hole in the Wall…”
“What does any of this have to do with my car?” Clark exploded. “I want to make out a complaint!”
“That’s a hell of an idea, Clark,” Henry said smoothly. “You know, I think it’s about time we filed a report on the man who was stalking Calla, too. Let the professionals handle it. Stalking is a federal offence now, isn’t it, Roy? Maybe we can get the FBI in here. I talked to the guy briefly the day of the wedding. I don’t think he’d be too hard to find.” Henry gave Clark a meaningful stare. The man from Dartmouth was white as a grub, Henry thought.
Roy took a long, narrow notepad from the pocket of the shirt that hung on his skeletal torso. “I think that might be a good idea. Why don’t you start, Mr. Shaw. Just what did happen to your car, there?”
Clark struggled with his emotions for a minute. Henry watched his Adam’s apple bob heavily in his long neck. He came
to
a decision with considerable difficulty.
“I … I must have left the emergency brake off,” he said finally, his chin dropping to his chest.
“Beg pardon?”
“I
said,
you pusillanimous, small-town potentate, that I left the emergency brake off.” Clark spat the words. A fleck of saliva hit Roy right in the face.
“Well, what was all that about Calla Bishop, then, Mr. Shaw?” Roy asked, calmly wiping the spittle from his cheek with the back of his hand.
“It was … we had a…”
“A lover’s quarrel,” Henry supplied helpfully. “Calla called him from the ranch to break off their engagement. I heard the whole thing, standing right there in the kitchen. I was eating a delicious slab of that leftover pie of Ruby’s, in fact, Roy. Calla said she’d wash the tin and bring it in to Ruby this week. A man could see why Mr. Shaw might be a little upset about the news, and then to have his rental car go into the river like that.” Henry gave Clark a sad, compassionate smile. “Isn’t that right, Clark?”
“That’s right,” Clark mumbled.
“Making false accusations is a very serious thing, Mr. Shaw,” Roy said. Clark leaned his head back and looked up at the cloudless afternoon sky.
“Yes, I know. I’m very sorry.”
Roy looked over at Henry. “Let’s talk about this man who was following Calla, then, why don’t we?”
“I’ll come in to the station tomorrow and give you a full report, Roy. Maybe we could pick up Ruby and have her buy us a little lunch, how about that?
Write it off on Dupree.”
Roy chuckled and closed his notebook with a snap. “That’d be fine. You won’t forget, now? I don’t much like the idea of anybody bothering Calla Bishop. She’s a hometown girl, after all.” He shot a withering look at Clark.
“You bet,” Henry said cheerfully.
“As for you—” Roy pushed a bony finger
to
Clark’s expensive cotton button-down shirt “—I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for hauling that car out of the river. Can’t have an old wreck like that down there. Ruins the look of the whole town.”
“Yes, well, we couldn’t have that,” Clark muttered bitterly. Henry walked
to
the edge of the river while Roy took Clark’s personal check and copied his insurance numbers. The little car was nothing more than a tangled heap of metal on the sandbar. A knight in shining armor. Everyone said she could take care of herself. Henry smiled and walked back
to
the motel.
Chapter 18
”
W
hat the hell do you want?” Clark asked when Henry interrupted him at the door of his motel room. There was no longer any heat in his voice. Henry thought he just sounded tired. Too bad, Dartmouth, Henry thought.
“Step inside.”
Henry kicked open the unlatched door and shoved Clark through the doorway with a push between his shoulder blades.
“What do you want now?” Clark appeared startled at the shove. The man had been playing hardball, Henry thought, hiring thugs, attempting to steal family legacies. But he was a little better suited to slow-pitch.
Henry glanced down. His boots squished in the wet carpet.
Calla’d
been in this room, he thought with affection as he noted the running toilet and the flooded bathroom. When his woman took her revenge, she did it right. He smothered another smile and poked a finger on Clark’s heaving chest.
“Sit.”
Clark slumped onto the bed.
“Why did you hire someone
to
watch Calla?”
Clark didn’t even inquire how he’d known she was being watched. He didn’t care anymore. No real-estate deal was worth this kind of grief. His father would simply have to accept that.
“I didn’t. Dupree did. I just footed the bill.”
“Dupree? The banker? Why the hell would he want her watched?”
“He wanted to keep an eye on her. I don’t know why. Thought she’d bolt, make her own deal, refinance with another bank, I don’t know. I don’t care. He’s an idiot. He had an idea this was some sort of covert spy operation instead of a business deal. Go ask him why he did it. Just leave me the hell alone.”
Henry’s mind raced. Dupree.
He’d make a stop at the bank, visit a little terror upon Dupree, make a call to the banking commission. And then he had to get back to the ranch. See Calla. Tell her this had all been unnecessary from the start. He’d save her ranch for her. He’d do anything for her.
Clark was studying him now, noting the vicious intent in the bigger man’s eyes, the clench of his fists. He laughed weakly, evilly.
“You’re in love with her.” The idea made him laugh harder. “You’re in love with that cowgirl. Perfect. Just perfect.” He’d been willing to marry her, had been
dying
to sleep with her, but he’d never once entertained the notion a sane man would fall in love with such a wildcat. “You’re perfect for each other.”
Henry ignored the man on the bed and made his way to the door.
“You do her yet?” the man on the bed was asking. “I bet she’s wild in the sack. I bet she rides you like a…”
He never got the sentence out of his mouth. He screamed and fell back on the bed, his hands clutched to his spurting nose.
“You … you broke my … you broke my nose.”
“I hope so. I’ve wanted to for weeks.”
“I’m…” Clark spit out a mouthful of blood that had gushed from his nose into his mouth. “I’m going
to
… sue
you, Beckett.”
“Give it your best shot, Dartmouth.” Henry watched as Clark curled into a fetal position. He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have made it five minutes on the Harvard hockey team.”
* * *
The man stepped into the road from a stand of willows and flagged Calla down. She slowed the old pickup. A stranded hunter, she thought, this far from town. She sighed in resignation. She was still a couple miles from home and she’d wanted
to
get in and get cleaned up before Henry got back. Begging forgiveness demanded of a woman she look her best. And if she was going to propose to a man—for the second time in two weeks, she thought with a little grimace—she ought
to
take a bath first.
And then she’d tell him she planned
to
sell Hot Sulphur Lake Ranch. For love. For him. That nothing, not 114 years of family history, not promises, not pride, could make her leave him again.
She pulled up
to
the man who’d waved her down.
“Dupree. I can’t believe this.”
“Calla.” Dupree nodded at her politely as he climbed into the cab of the truck. “I thought you’d be heading home about now.”
“What are you doing out here? Where’s your rig?”
“Down in that patch of willows. I was heading out
to
your place anyway when I went by that little scene you were kicking up at the motel. I reckon your engagement’s off? I figured you’d never go through with it. Lucky I had an alternate plan.”
“Your plans are crap. I can’t believe I didn’t figure out you were in on this with Clark. I’m calling the Feds in the morning. I can think of one or two laws you’ve broken in the past six months, and I’m sure they’ll be able
to
think of a couple more, don’t you?”
“You can’t prove a thing, Calla. All I did was act as a go-between for the developers and one of my clients.”
“Bull. You tried to extort my ranch right out from under me, Dupree, and you know it.”
“You’ll have a hell of time getting that
to
stand up in court,” Dupree said. Calla noticed his voice was strangely calm. It was also devoid of the usual Dupree clichés.
Calla shrugged. “I don’t guess I’ll have
to,
Dupree. My feeling is the accusation will be enough for a small-town bank like Paradise Savings and Loan. You’ll go under like a horseshoe in a stock tank.”
The skin of Dupree’s tanned face went a sickly white. “That wouldn’t be particularly fair to your fellow investors, would it, Calla?”
“I can’t think of a fellow investor who has more than a hundred grand in your bank, can you? The FDIC will cover everybody, if you aren’t bought out by somebody bigger by then, anyway. Paradise will be better off without you, Dupree. And they’ll know it soon enough.”
“You’re a cast-iron little bitch, you know that, Calla? You McFadden women have all been cast-iron bitches, along down the line.”
“It’s what makes us so appealing. Now, get out of my truck, Dupree. If you’re broke down, you can just walk the thirty miles to town.”
“You smug little bitch.”
“You’re getting repetitive, Dupree.” Calla turned to the little man. She was met with a vicious stare and one very large, very deadly-looking 9mm pistol. “Holy hell. You really have lost your mind, haven’t you, you idiot?”
“I haven’t lost my mind, Calla. Now drive.”
“Are you going to shoot me, Dick?”
“If I have to. But first I’m going to get your signature on the deed to your ranch.”
Calla laughed. “And how are you going
to
explain that to everyone?”
“Easy as pie. We’re going up to that old elk camp at Tellum Canyon, and you’re going
to
sign and past-date a deed for me. When you die from a nasty fall off one of those horrible rimrock cliffs you’re so fond of climbing, it’ll just be another tragic accident in the long line of tragic accidents that have plagued your family for years.” He shrugged. “Though, if you broke up with Shaw this afternoon, we’ll just all assume you couldn’t take the heartbreak and tossed yourself off. I’ll tell everybody you signed the deed over when you were in my office last week. It was the smart thing
to
do. Not only does Paradise get free of the McFadden line once and for all, but the bank gets the ranch. I’ll have to fight the developers off with a stick. When it’s sold, I’ll get the bank’s money back, a little commission of my own, and whatever I can skim off the top.” He winked at his own resourcefulness. “I know just how to do it. Been doing it for years. What that place is worth, I could make fifty, sixty grand, easy money.”
“You’d kill me for a measly fifty grand?” Calla shook her head in disgust. “You’re delusional, Dick. Nobody’s going
to
buy this story. Is this the best you could come up with?”
Dupree shrugged. “On short notice. It’ll do.”
“Get serious. Ruby, for one, will know I never signed any deed.”
Dupree shrugged. “Even if she talks, which she undoubtedly will, she won’t be able
to
prove a thing. I’ll have the signature on the deed. And that’s all that counts.”
“No one will believe you, Dupree,” Calla insisted.
“People always believe me.” Dupree grinned
at
her “I’m very important in this town, you know.”
“Dick, you’re about as important in this town as knapweed. And just as hard
to
get rid of.”
But for all her bravado, Calla’s heart had started a relentless hammering. She knew he was right. People would believe him. Calla’s daredevil disposition was the stuff of legend in Paradise. It would surprise no one if she slipped on a rimrock cliff and plunged
to
her death. It would also surprise no one that she’d signed over the ranch
to
Dupree. Everyone in town knew it had been in trouble since the day her mother died.
Nope. No one would be surprised.
Except Henry.
Henry would find out the truth. Henry would string Dupree up so high he’d dangle forever. She cheered briefly. Henry would avenge her.
Not that she wanted to be avenged, particularly. She’d much rather be alive.
Well, she just wouldn’t let Dupree kill her. The man was thirty years her senior and although he’d done his share of hunting in the hills above the Hot Sulphur, no one knew those mountains better than she did. She’d figure out something.
* * *
“Where’s Calla?”
The trio around the kitchen table gaped at him. As well they should. He looked like a madman.
“Wasn’t she in town?” Jackson asked.
“Yes. But she came back here. Didn’t she? Is she in the barn?”
“No, I haven’t seen her come in. Henry, what in the world is the matter with you?”
Henry had gone to the bank straight from the Paradise, but found it closed up tight. Not even that nice old woman from Helen’s wedding, the pie baker, the wife of the skinny sheriff, was behind the teller’s counter. He’d known instantly that his Calla was in real trouble.
And now it had been more than an hour since he watched her drive out of town. He had to get to Calla.
He darted across the kitchen, yanking the phone off its wall cradle, punching in the series of numbers Pete had once proudly told him even the president didn’t have access to. He ignored the question.
Lester glared
at
him. “Ain’t you even got the decent manners to welcome us back from our honeymoon, you pissant? Or are you too hot to trot…”
“Quiet, Lester,” Jackson said. He stood. “You better tell me what’s got you so riled up, son.”
“I want to talk to Fish,” Henry barked into the phone.
“Henry…”
“Then give me the colonel.” Henry slapped a hand over his eyes and squeezed at his temples with thumb and middle finger. His teeth were bared. Even Lester was a little taken aback. “It’s Johannsen and if you ask me one more question, I’m going to reach through this phone and yank out your jugular.”
“Criminy,” Lester breathed. He groped for Helen’s hand.
“Frank, here.” The colonel’s voice bristled with impatience. “You’ve got nerve calling this number, Johannsen. I’ll give you that much.”
“Shut up. Where’s Pete?”
“What?”
“Where’s Pete, you damn simpleton?”
Unbelievably, Henry heard a chuckle across the phone line. “You losing your temper, Mitch? I didn’t know you could. And was that a swearword you just used? You must have thawed a little of that ice in your veins since you’ve been diddling that little cowgirl.” There was an ominous pause. “Pete always has the best information around. He tells me you still got those diskettes stashed somewhere.”
A sickening chill went down Henry’s spine. Maybe this wasn’t hometown trouble after all. Maybe Calla had nothing to fear from that little fireplug of a banker. Maybe she should have been afraid of Mitchell Henry Johannsen and all his vile secrets all along.
Helen nearly jumped in her husband’s bony lap
at
the look that crossed Henry’s face. Jackson was frozen in place, fear for his daughter draining the blood from his head.
Henry spoke slowly, menacingly, into the phone. “Listen to me, Colonel. I’m only going
to
ask you this one time. Do you have her?”
“The cowgirl? You lost her already, Johannsen? You never could keep a woman.”
“Where is she? If you’ve touched one hair—”
“I don’t have her,” Frank shouted indignantly. “What the hell kind of criminal do you think I am?”
Henry threw his head back, eyes shut tight, and growled his frustration.
“Pete, then?”
“Look, Johannsen, I’m not saying I wouldn’t take you out
at
the first opportunity. I hate your stinking guts, and the minute I figure out where you’ve stashed those diskettes, you’d better be on a plane to the South Pole. But I don’t have your cowgirl, and Fish is on a carrier in the Pacific. He went out this morning. He doesn’t have her, either.”