When was the last time she'd seen him five years ago maybe? They exchanged a brief, awkward hug. "I'd thought I could count on one person to be at my side at the wedding," she said, smiling to show him she was teasing. "But it's not like we gave you much notice. What are you doing in town?"
He smiled. "I wondered if I might get the key to the old place and get some mementos. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. Anything in particular you're looking for? Though I guess you'd know where stuff is more than I would. You've been back more often."
"Pop had a box of old papers and mementos of my mom's. It's about so big" His hands measured out about ten inches. "The top has an eagle carved into it."
"I don't think I've ever seen it." She dug out a key. "Feel free to look around though. You can leave the key on the counter. I have a duplicate."
He pocketed the key. "How's married life?"
"Fine. Have you met Jack?" She thought they'd gone to school together.
"Everyone knows the great man." His lip curled.
"You sound as though you don't like him."
Curt shrugged. "In school he had the prettiest girls, the best spot on the football team. When he ran for class president, no one ran against him. He doesn't know what hardship is."
"His wife died, Curt." And his daughter, but Curt didn't need to know that story. At least not yet.
Curt's blue eyes softened. "Sorry, I assumed he was divorced."
He put his hand on her shoulder and the warmth seeped through to her skin. "You okay, Shannon? I want you to know I'm here for you if you ever need anything. We're all the family that's left."
Her voice dried up at the affection in his voice. He'd never tried to make her feel like an outsider, so why had she always felt she stood beyond the circle formed by him and his dad, out in the dark where she was frightened all the time? Once her parents died, she'd been a phantom nameless, voiceless, unseen. Looking back now, she wondered if some of the isolation had been of her own making. A way of dealing with her pain by keeping everyone at arm's length.
She found her voice. "I'm good. Really, Curt. Hey, whatever happened to that old motor home my parents lived in? I've been thinking about it lately. I never went through it after they died."
Curt frowned. "I'm not sure, but I think Pop had it hauled to the dump. The one on the south side of town. I'm sure Pop went through it." He glanced at his watch. "Listen, I've got to run."
Curt was probably right about the motor home being empty, but Shannon longed to take a look. Now that she was married and had the twins reunited, she had been thinking about them often. They would have loved her girls. The junkyard was on the way home. She saw Jack heading toward the truck. Maybe she could talk him into stopping a minute.
"Ready to head home?" Jack asked when he reached her.
Home. A real home with happy children. It was worth all the silences between her and Jack. "I'm ready." She climbed into the truck and faced him when he did the same. "Would you mind stopping at the old junkyard for a minute?"
He shot an amused glance her way. "You in the market for an old car?"
"Not exactly." She explained what she had in mind.
"If that thing has been there for fifteen years, it's bound to be full of nasty critters. You sure you're up to it?"
She suppressed a shudder. "Just a quick peek."
He started the engine and dropped the transmission lever into drive. "You got it."
Shannon gazed out over the dry landscape. After a lush spring, the grasses had turned to fire tinder this summer, the last bit of moisture baked out by the sun. She caught a whiff of new fires that were burning.
He turned in the drive to the junkyard. There was little rust on the decaying vehicles because of the dry climate. "You see it?"
It was hard to distinguish the jumble of twisted metal. "Not yet. There's the office. Maybe we can ask." She ran her window down and the heat blasted inside.
"I'll check." He parked and got out, then disappeared inside the office. He reappeared by her open window a minute or two later. "The guy says it's back by the fence. He knew right where to send us because someone else was asking yesterday. He didn't let them back since they had no ID. He knows I married you so he's cool with letting us go back."
Shannon stared up at him. "That's strange," she said slowly. "Did he know who it was? I can't imagine their trailer would interest anyone but me."
"He just said it was a guy. Big shoulders. Curly hair."
The guy who'd attacked her in the kitchen at her uncle's ranch? She suppressed a shudder. He was still lurking about, even though she hadn't seen him.
"What?" Jack appeared perplexed by her reaction.
She'd never told Jack about the attacks or about Mary Beth's situation. She stole a peek at his strong face. So far she'd seen only evidence of honesty and integrity. Maybe she dared trust him with this problem. "It's a long story."
He opened her door. "You can tell me while we walk back there." He grabbed a broom leaning by the main office on their way past.
Shannon launched into the story. He interrupted occasionally with a question. "So I guess the guy looking for the motor home might be that same person," she finished. Jack wasn't saying much. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. His clenched jaw told her as much as his silence.
"Why didn't you tell me about this right away? You put our girls in danger by keeping this to yourself. I could have had my ranch hands watching out for all of us."
Her anger began to simmer. "You've not shown yourself to be the most trustworthy person in the past, Jack. I haven't seen that guy for several weeks, so I assumed he realized I didn't know anything. If I thought the girls were in any real danger, I would have asked you for help."
"You think it's only the girls I'm worried about?" He stopped and took her arm in a tight grip. "You think I wouldn't take a bullet for you too? This is a dangerous situation for everyone. The girls could get caught in crossfire or knocked down and hurt accidentally. They don't have to be targets to be injured. Neither do you."
"Jack, I'd die for my daughters. You don't have to worry about me not protecting them." She didn't bother to temper her tone.
"I didn't say you were a bad mother," he said. "But we're a team now. I don't want any secrets in the house, especially ones as serious as this. I'm not that same kid who let you down, Shannon. I'll never do it again. You can trust me." His gaze locked with hers. "Do you think this is about the Spanish treasure? Do you know where it is?"
She tugged her arm free. "I see the motor home." Not even Jack had the right to ask her that question. Later, when she was alone, she would examine the way her blood warmed at his promise to her. Maybe she could relinquish the secrets she held close.
She stared at the vehicle's sorry state. The blue stripes on the side were sun-faded. Dents big enough to put her fist into peppered the side facing her. The window in the door had been busted out, and the motor home sat on concrete blocks instead of tires. Once upon a time, Shannon had thought it the most beautiful place in the world. Now it was nothing but a heap of metal.
She tugged on the door handle. "It's stuck."
"Let me try."
She moved out of the way and Jack's big hand closed around the handle. He twisted and tugged until the door screeched open. Stale air rushed out, and a bird squawked and flew from inside. Debris littered the floor, obliterating the vinyl. Jack took the broom and swept out the cobwebs hanging in their way.
"I don't hear any rattlers, at least not yet," he said. He mounted the bent steps and stared up at the ceiling before sweeping it clean too. He crushed several spiders that dropped down.
Shannon gasped when something dark moved. "A tarantula!" She pointed behind him.
"Step out of the way."
She moved to the front of the motor home and watched him sweep the massive spider out the door. It lay motionless for a moment, then began to crawl slowly away. Nasty things.
Jack poked his head out the door. "All clear, at least for now," he said. "You want to come in?"
She wanted to chicken out, but he'd already gone to so much trouble for her, she didn't dare. "I'll be right there." Her gaze searched the nooks and crannies she could see from the doorway before stepping up onto the floor.
"You all lived in this little place?" he asked.
"I slept in the bed over the cab, and my parents had the back bedroom," she said. "I loved it. It was like sleeping in a tree house." She started for the bedroom, but he stopped her.
"Let me check back there first." Broom in hand, he strode down the hallway. He pushed open the door, then backed away fast. "It's full of rattlers and I saw another tarantula. I don't think you want to go in there."
She didn't. Making a hasty retreat, she rushed for the steps but stopped short of them when her gaze landed on the small metal box her dad had kept his maps and notes in. She snatched it up and disturbed a scorpion that ran toward her boot. Shuddering, she squashed it before it could run up her pant leg.
"Have I mentioned I hate spiders and scorpions?" she muttered when Jack joined her.
"You braved something like this for Wyatt." His gaze held admiration, then his attention went to what she held. "What's that?"
"A box of my dad's."
"Want me to look inside and make sure there's nothing in there?"
She handed it to him. "Please."
He tried to open it. "I think it's locked. I'll get my tools at home, see if I can jimmy it."
"There might be a key at Uncle Earl's. He had a key to everything"
"We'll run over and look after supper if the Baileys don't stay too long. I'm sure you'd like me to preserve the box if I can."
Sometimes her new husband surprised her with his perception and compassion. He'd been a rock for her today. She leaned over and squeezed his hand as they walked back to the truck. His eyebrow arched, but he returned the pressure of her hand and didn't let go as they walked to the vehicle.
WHEN JACK PULLED INTO THE DRIYEV1AY, HIS HAND STILL TINGLED FROM the way Shannon held it at the junkyard. "The Baileys are already here," he said, noticing Rick's truck.
"Looks like they just got here," Shannon said as the doors to the truck swung open.
They greeted their friends, then invited them inside. The aroma of pot roast filled the house, and his mouth watered. He'd have to give more of an effort during dinner tonight. The sight of Shannon in Blair's place had been painful at meals so far, he'd kept his head down and left the table as soon as he could.
"How are your mustangs coming along?" Rick asked once they went to the dining room.
"I've got two that are promising. Faith named them Gent and Dancer. The stallion, Gent, is anything but a gentleman. Dancer is beginning to show promise, but Gent's got an iron mouth and a will to match."
Rick grinned. "Sounds like my wife."
Allie balled her small fist and punched his arm. "I heard that."
Shannon smiled and left the room, returning with a bottle of hot sauce. She poured a liberal amount on her pot roast. Jack stared with open mouth. "What are you doing?"
She stopped. "I like my food hot."
He picked up the bottle. "It's pure habanero peppers."
She plucked it from his hand and dropped it back into her purse. "What else?" She forked a bite of the doctored roast into her mouth. "Yum. You man enough to try it?"
He opened his mouth to refuse, then caught the light of challenge in her eyes. The smirk on Rick's face decided him. "You bet."
He leaned over and dug his fork into her plate of food, taking a generous bite of the roast with the most sauce. The minute the sauce hit his tongue, he knew he'd made a mistake. The heat froze his vocal cords and the muscles in this throat seized. For a horrifying moment, he thought he'd choke on the lump of meat trying to make it past his esophagus.
He reached for his glass of milk, and the struggle to breathe past the pain made him so unsteady that he knocked it over. The liquid splattered onto Shannon's lap. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, but he still could make no sound.
Shannon grabbed her glass of water. "Here." She thrust it into his hand.
He downed it like a drowning man, but the heat only intensified. "Milk," he managed to croak.
Shannon shot to her feet and rushed to the kitchen. Jack looked around wildly for anyone who had milk. The girls. Lurching to his feet, he staggered around the table to Faith. Or was it Kylie? He snatched the glass she was lifting to her lips and brought it to his own. He barely heard her protest as the cold liquid quenched the fire on his tongue.
The heat had been so intense, moisture coated his eyes. He blinked until the room came into focus and managed a weak grin when Rick broke into guffaws. Shannon rushed back into the room with a glass of milk in her hand.
"Daddy, you drank my milk," Faith said, her glare accusing.
He took the glass from Shannon, who was trying not to giggle. "Here," he said.
"Big tough guy," Rick said. "Felled by a little hot sauce."
"You try it and see if you're still laughing," Jack said under his breath. He stared at his wife with new respect. "You eat that stuff all the time?"
"On everything" Her blue eyes were as bright as last night's stars. "It's an acquired taste. Try it a few more times. What, are you afraid?"
"I'm more afraid of that hot stuff than a long-tail cat in a room full of rockers."
Shannon giggled and put her hand over her mouth. "The look on your face."
Jack realized how tense things had been between them now that he'd heard her laugh. He wanted to hear more of it.
"JACK'S HUMAN AFTER ALL." SHANNON SUPPRESSED ANOTHER GIGGLE. SHE and Allie sat on the large porch while the men went to the barn to check on the horses. The night breeze carried the sound of coyotes and owls to their ears.
Allie rested her hand on her pregnant belly. "You sound surprised."
"I wasn't sure. He's bigger-than-life most times. It's the first weakness I've seen." The breeze lifted Shannon's hair and cooled the back of her neck.