“No TV shows?”
“They’re not TV shows. They’re experiments in how to create attention deficit disorders in the entire population with endless commercials and ads that pop up right in the middle of programs. I only watch motion pictures or DVDs, unless I find something interesting enough to suffer through. I like programs on World War II history and science.”
She pondered that. “I guess there’s five minutes of program to fifteen minutes of commercials,” she agreed.
“As long as people put up with it, that will continue, too.” He chuckled. “I refuse to be part of the process.”
“I like history, too,” she began.
“There was this big war...” he began with an exaggerated expression.
She punched his arm affectionately. “No cherry pie and ice cream for you.”
“I take it back.”
She grinned up at him. “Okay. You can have pie and ice cream.”
He smiled and opened the door for her.
She hesitated in the opening, just staring up at him, drinking in a face that was as handsome as any movie star’s, at the physique that could have graced an athlete.
“Stop ogling me, if you please,” he said with exaggerated patience. “You have to transfer that interest to someone less broken.”
She made a face at him. “You’re not broken,” she pointed out. “Besides, there’s nobody anywhere who could compare with you.” She flushed at her own boldness. “Anyway, you’re safe to cut my teeth on, and you know it.” She grinned. “I’m off-limits, I am.”
He laughed. “Off-limits, indeed, and don’t you forget it.”
“Spoilsport.”
She went inside ahead of him. He felt as if he could fly. Dangerous, that. More dangerous, his reaction to her. She was years too young for anything more than banter. But, he reminded himself, the years would pass. If he lived long enough, after she graduated from college, who knew what might happen?
* * *
There was a grim memorial service at the Comanche Wells Cemetery. It was part of the land owned by the Methodist church where Reverend Blair was the minister. He stood over the small open grave, with an open Bible in his hands, reading the service for the dead. The urn containing Roberta’s ashes was in the open grave, waiting for the funeral home’s maintenance man, standing nearby, to close after the ceremony.
Gabriel stood beside Michelle, close, but not touching. He was wearing a suit, some expensive thing that fit him with delicious perfection. The navy darkness of the suit against the spotless white shirt and blue patterned tie only emphasized his good looks. His wavy black hair was unruly in the stiff breeze. Michelle’s own hair was tormented into a bun because of the wind. But it blew tendrils down into her eyes and mouth while she tried to listen to the service, while she tried even harder to feel something for the late Roberta.
It was sad that the woman’s own sister didn’t care enough to even send a flower. Total strangers from Jacobs County had sent sprays and wreathes and potted plants to the funeral home that had arranged for the cremation. The flowers were spread all around the grave. Some of them would go to the local hospital and nursing home in Jacobsville, others for the evening church service here. A few of the potted plants would go home with Michelle.
She remembered her father, and how much he’d been in love with Roberta at first. She remembered Roberta in the days before Bert. More recently, she remembered horrible arguments and being slapped and having Roberta try to sell the very house under her feet. There had been more bad times than good.
But now that part of her life was over. She had a future that contained Gabriel, and the beginning of a career as a journalist. It was something to look forward to, something to balance her life against the recent death of her father and Roberta’s unexpected passing.
Sara’s plane had been held up due to an electrical fault. She’d phoned Gabriel just before he and Michelle went to the funeral with Carlie, to apologize and give an updated arrival time. Michelle looked forward to meeting her. From what Gabriel had said about his sister, she sounded like a very sweet and comfortable person.
Reverend Blair read the final verses, closed the Bible, bowed his head for prayer. A few minutes later, he paused to speak to Michelle, where she stood with Gabriel and Carlie, thanking the few local citizens who’d taken time to attend. There hadn’t been time for the newspaper to print the obituary, so services had been announced on the local radio station. Everybody listened to it, for the obituaries and the country-western music. They also listened for the school closings when snow came. That didn’t happen often, but Michelle loved the rare times when it did.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Reverend Blair said, holding Carlie’s hand and smiling gently. “No matter how contrary some people are, we get used to having them in our lives.”
“That’s true,” Michelle said gently. “And my father loved her,” she added. “For a time, she made him happy.” She grimaced. “I just don’t understand how she changed so much, so quickly. Even when she drank too much...” she hesitated, looking around to make sure she wasn’t overheard before she continued, “she was never really mean.”
Gabriel and the minister exchanged enigmatic glances.
Michelle didn’t notice. Her eyes were on the grave. “And she said not to let Bert get away with it,” she added slowly.
“There are some things going on that you’re better off not knowing about,” Reverend Blair said softly. “You can safely assume that Bert will pay a price for what he did. If not in this life, then in the next.”
“But what did he do?” Michelle persisted.
“Bad things.” Reverend Blair smiled.
“My sister will be here in an hour,” Gabriel said, reading the screen of his cell phone, with some difficulty because of the sun’s glare. He grinned at the reverend. “You can have your daughter back tonight.”
Reverend Blair grinned. “I must say, I miss the little touches. Like clean dishes and laundry getting done.” He made a face. “She’s made me lazy.” He smiled with pure affection at his daughter, who grinned.
“I’ll make you fresh rolls for supper,” Carlie promised him.
“Oh, my, and I didn’t get you anything,” he quipped.
She hugged him. “You’re just the best dad in the whole world.”
“Pumpkin, I’m glad you think so.” He let her go. “If you need anything, you let us know, all right?” he asked Michelle. “But you’re in good hands.” He smiled at Gabriel.
“She’ll be safe, at least.” Gabriel gave Reverend Blair a complicated look. “Make sure about those new locks, will you? I’ve gotten used to having you around.”
The other man made a face. “Locks and bolts won’t keep out the determined,” he reminded him. “I put my trust in a higher power.”
“So do I,” Gabriel replied. “But I keep a Glock by the bed.”
“Trust in Allah, but tie up your camel.”
Everybody looked at Michelle, who blushed.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was remembering something I read in a nonfiction book about the Middle East. It was written by a former member of the French Foreign Legion.”
Now the stares were more complicated, from the two males at least.
“Well, they fascinate me,” she confessed, flushing a little. “I read true crime books and biographies of military men and anything I can find about the Special Air Services of Great Britain and the French Foreign Legion.”
“My, my,” Gabriel said. He chuckled with pure glee, a reaction that was lost on Michelle.
“I lead a sheltered life.” Michelle glanced at the grave. The maintenance man, a little impatient, had started to fill the grave. “We should go.”
“Yes, we should.” Reverend Blair smiled. “Take care.”
“Thanks. The service was very nice,” Michelle said.
“I’m glad you thought so.”
Gabriel took her arm and led her back to the car. He drove her home first, so that she could change back into more casual clothes and get her overnight bag. Then he drove her to his own house, where Sara was due to arrive any minute.
Michelle had this picture of Sara. That she’d be dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a big smile and a very tender nature. Remembering what Gabriel had told her in confidence, about the perils Sara had survived when they were in school, she imagined the other woman would be a little shy and withdrawn.
So it came as something of a shock when a tall, beautiful woman with long black hair and flashing black eyes stepped out of the back of the limousine and told the driver where he could go and how fast.
Six
“I
am very sorry, lady,” the driver, a tall lanky man, apologized. “I truly didn’t see the truck coming...”
“You didn’t look!” she flashed at him in a terse but sultry tone. “How dare you text on your cell phone while driving a customer!”
He was very flushed by now. “I won’t do it again, I swear.”
“You won’t do it with me in the car, and I am reporting you to the company you work for,” she concluded.
Gabriel stepped forward as the driver opened the trunk. He picked up the single suitcase that Sara had brought with her. Something in the way Gabriel looked at the man had him backing away.
“Very sorry, again,” he said, flustered. “If you’d just sign the ticket, ma’am...”
He fetched a clipboard and handed it to her, eyeing Gabriel as if he expected him to leap on him any second. Sara signed it. The man obviously knew better than to look for a tip. He nodded, turned, jumped into the car and left a trail of dust as he sped away.
“That could have gone better,” Sara said with a grim smile. She hugged Gabriel. “So good to see you again.”
“You, too,” he replied. His face changed as he looked at the younger woman. He touched her hair. “You only grow more beautiful with age.”
“You only think so because you’re my brother.” She laughed musically. She looked past him at Michelle, who stood silent and wary.
“And you must be Michelle.” Sara went to her, smiled and hugged her warmly. “I have a nasty temper. The silly man almost killed us both, texting some woman.”
“I’m so glad he didn’t,” Michelle said, hugging her back. “It’s very kind of both of you to do this for me,” she added. “I...really don’t have anyplace to go. I mean, the Reverend Blair said I could stay with him and Carlie, but...”
“You certainly do have someplace to go,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Sara needed the change of scenery. She was vegetating up in Wyoming.”
Sara sighed. “In a sense, I suppose so, although I like it better there than in British Columbia. I left our foreman in charge at the ranch in Catelow. That’s in Wyoming,” Sara told Michelle with a smile. “Anything that needs doing for the sale, I can do online.” Her black eyes, so like Gabriel’s, had a sad cast. “The change of scenery will do me good. I love to ride. Do you?” she asked the younger woman.
“I haven’t been on a horse in years,” Michelle confessed. “Mostly, horses try to scrape me off or dislodge me. I’m sort of afraid of them.”
“My horses are very tame,” Gabriel told her. “They’ll love you.”
“I hope you have coffee made,” Sara sighed as they made their way into the sprawling house. “I’m so tired! Flying is not my favorite mode of travel.”
“I’ve never even been on a plane,” Michelle confessed.
Sara stopped and stared at her. “Never?”
“Never.”
“She wanted to look inside the limo.” Gabriel chuckled. “She’s never seen one of those, either.”
“I’m so sorry!” Sara exclaimed. “I made a fuss...”
“You should have made a fuss,” Michelle replied. “There will be other times.”
“I’ll make sure of that.” Sara smiled, and it was like the sun coming out.
* * *
School had been rough in the days after Roberta’s death. People were kind, but there were so many questions about how she died. Gossip ran rampant. One of the girls she sat near in history class told her that Roberta’s boyfriend was a notorious drug dealer. At least two boys in their school got their fixes from him.
Now the things Roberta had said started to make sense. And Michelle was learning even more about the networks and how they operated from Minette since she’d started working for the Jacobsville newspaper.
“It’s a vile thing, drug dealing,” Minette said harshly. “Kids overdose and die. The men supplying the drugs don’t even care. They only care about the profit.” She hesitated. “Well, maybe some of them have good intentions...”
“A drug dealer with good intentions?” Michelle laughed. “You have got to be kidding.”
“Actually, I’m not. You’ve heard of the man they call El Jefe?”
“Who hasn’t?” Michelle replied. “We heard that he helped save you and Sheriff Carson,” she added.
“He’s my father.”
Michelle gaped at her. “He’s...?”
“My father,” Minette repeated. “I didn’t know who my real father was until very recently. My life was in danger, even more than Hayes’s was when he was shot, because my father was in a turf war with a rival who was the most evil man I ever knew.”
“Your life is like a soap opera,” Michelle ventured.
Minette laughed. “Well, yes, it is.”
“I wish mine was more exciting. In a good way,” she clarified. She drew in a long breath. “Okay, what about this camera?” she asked. It had more dials and settings than a spaceship.
“I know, it’s a little intimidating. Let me show you how it works.”
She did. It took a little time, and when they finished, a phone call was waiting for Minette. She motioned to Michelle. “I have a new reporter. I’m going to let her take this down, if you don’t mind. Her name is Michelle....That’s right. It’s a deal. Thanks!” She put her hand over the receiver so that the caller wouldn’t hear. “This is Ben Simpson. He’s our Jacobs County representative in District 3 for the Texas Soil and Water Conservation Board. He wants us to do a story on a local rancher who won Rancher of the Year for the Jacobs County Soil and Water Conservation District for his implementation of natural grasses and ponds. The award was made just before Christmas, but the rancher has been out of the country until now. I’m going to let you take down the details, and then I’ll send you out to his ranch to take a photo of him with the natural grasses in the background. Are you up to it?” she teased.
Michelle was almost shaking, but she bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she said.
Minette grinned. “Go for it!”
* * *
Michelle was used to taking copious notes in school. She did well in her schoolwork because she was thorough. She took down the story, pausing to clarify the spelling of names, and when she was through she had two sheets of notes and she’d arranged a day and time to go out to photograph the rancher.
She hung up. Minette was still in the doorway. “Did I do that okay?” she asked worriedly.
“You did fine. I was listening on the other phone. I took notes, too, just in case. You write the story and we’ll compare your notes to mine.”
“Thanks!” Michelle said fervently. “I was nervous.”
“No need to be. You’ll do fine.” She indicated the computer at the desk. “Get busy.” She smiled. “I like the way you are with people, even on the phone. You have an engaging voice. It will serve you well in this business.”
“That’s nice of you to say,” Michelle said.
“Write the story. Remember, short, concise sentences, nothing flowery or overblown. I’ll be out front if you need me.”
She started to thank Minette again, but it was going to get tedious if she kept it up, so she just nodded and smiled.
* * *
When she turned in the story, she stood gritting her teeth while Minette read it and compared it with her own notes.
“You really are a natural,” she told the younger woman. “I couldn’t have done better myself. Nice work.”
“Thank you!”
“Now go home,” she said. “It’s five, and Carlie will be peeling rubber any minute to get home.”
Michelle laughed. “I think she may. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Do I go out to photograph the man tomorrow, too?”
“Yes.”
Michelle bit her lip. “But I don’t have a license or own a car...there’s only Roberta’s and she didn’t leave it to me. I don’t think she even had a will...and I can’t ask Carlie to take off from work....” The protests came in small bursts.
“I’ll drive you out there,” Minette said softly. “We might drop by some of the state and federal offices and I’ll introduce you to my sources.”
“That sounds very exciting! Thanks!” She sounded relieved, and she was.
“One more thing,” Minette said.
“Yes?”
“I’m printing the conservation story under your own byline.”
Michelle caught her breath. “My first one. That’s so kind of you.”
“You’ll have others. This is just the first.” She grinned. “Have a good night.”
“I will. Sara’s making homemade lasagna. It’s my favorite.”
“Sara?”
“Gabriel’s sister. She’s so beautiful.” Michelle shook her head. “The two of them have been lifesavers for me. I didn’t want to have to pick up and move somewhere else. I couldn’t have stayed here to finish school without them.”
“Not quite true,” Minette replied. “You could have come to us. Even Cash Grier mentioned that they could make room for you, if you needed a place to stay.”
“So many,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “They hardly know me.”
“They know you better than you think,” was the reply. “In small communities like ours, there are no secrets. Your good deeds are noted by many.”
“I guess I lived in the city for too long. Daddy had patients but no real friends, especially after Roberta came into our lives. It was just the three of us.” She smiled. “I love living here.”
“So do I, and I’ve been here all my life.” She cocked her head. “Gabriel seems an odd choice to be your guardian. He isn’t what you think of as a family man.”
“He’s not what he seems,” Michelle replied. “He was kind to me when I needed it most.” She made a face. “I was sitting in the middle of the road hoping to get hit by a car. It was the worst day of my life. He took me home with him and talked to me. He made everything better. When Roberta...died...he was there to comfort me. I owe him a lot. He even got Sara down here to live with him so that he could be my legal guardian with no raised eyebrows around us.”
Minette simply said, “I see.” What she did see, she wasn’t going to share. Apparently Gabriel had a little more than normal interest in this young woman, but he wasn’t going to risk her reputation. It was going to be all by the book. Minette wondered what he had in mind for Michelle when she was a few years older. And she also wondered if Michelle had any idea who Gabriel really was, and how he earned his living. That was a secret she wasn’t going to share, either. Not now.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Michelle added.
“Tomorrow.”
* * *
Carlie was waiting for her at the front door the next morning, which was Friday. She looked out of breath.
“Is something wrong?” Michelle asked.
“No. Of course not. Let’s go.”
Carlie checked all around the truck and even looked under it before she got behind the wheel and started it.
“Okay, now, what’s going on?” Michelle asked.
“Daddy got a phone call earlier,” Carlie said, looking both ways before she pulled carefully out of the driveway.
“What sort of call?”
“From some man who said Daddy might think he was out of the woods, but somebody else was coming to pay him a visit, and he’ll never see it coming.” She swallowed. “Daddy told me to check my truck out before I drove it. I forgot, so I looked underneath just in case.” She shook her head. “It’s like a nightmare,” she groaned. “I have no idea in this world why anyone would want to harm a minister.”
“It’s like our police chief said,” Michelle replied quietly. “There are madmen in the world. I guess you can’t ever understand what motivates them to do the things they do.”
“I wish things were normal again,” Carlie said in a sad tone. “I hate having to look over my shoulder when I drive and look for bombs under my car.” She glanced at Michelle. “I swear, I feel like I’m living in a combat zone.”
“I know the feeling, although I’ve never been in any real danger. Not like you.” She smiled. “Don’t you worry. I’ll help you keep a lookout.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “It’s nice, having someone to ride with me. These back roads get very lonely.”
“They do, indeed.” Michelle sighed as she looked out over the barren flat landscape toward the horizon as the car sped along. “I just wrote my first story for the newspaper,” she said with a smile. “And Minette is taking me out to introduce me to people who work for the state and federal government. It’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me,” she added, her eyes starry with pleasure. “I get my own byline.” She shook her head. “It really is true...”
“What’s true?” Carlie asked.
“My dad said that after every bad experience, something wonderful happens to you. It’s like you pay a price for great happiness.”
“I see what you mean.” She paused. “I really do.”
* * *
Minette drove Michelle out to the Patterson ranch, to take photographs for her story and to see the rancher’s award for conservation management. She also wanted a look at his prize Santa Gertrudis bull. The bull had been featured in a cattle magazine because he was considered one of the finest of his breed, a stud bull whose origins, like all Santa Gertrudis, was the famous King Ranch in Texas. It was a breed native to Texas that had resulted from breeding Shorthorn and Hereford cattle with Brahman cattle. The resulting breed was named for the Spanish land grant where Richard King founded the cattle empire in the nineteenth century: Santa Gertrudis.
Wofford Patterson was tall, intimidating. He had jet-black hair, thick and straight, and an olive complexion. His eyes, surprisingly, were such a pale blue that they seemed to glitter like Arctic ice. He had big hands and big feet and his face looked as if it had been carved from solid stone. It was angular. Handsome, in its way, but not conventionally handsome.
There were scars on his hands. Michelle stared at them as she shook his hand, and flushed when she saw his keen, intelligent eyes noting the scrutiny.
“Sorry,” she said, although she hadn’t voiced her curiosity.
“I did a stint with the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team,” he explained, showing her the palms of both big hands. “Souvenirs from many rappels down a long rope from a hovering chopper,” he added with a faint smile. “Even gloves don’t always work.”
Her lips fell open. This was not what she’d expected when Minette said they’d take pictures of a rancher. This man wasn’t what he appeared to be.
“No need to look threatened,” he told her, and his pale eyes twinkled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t have arrest powers anymore.” He scowled. “Have you done something illegal? Is that why you look intimidated?”