The Quiet Seduction (18 page)

It was as good a description as any.

Clyde and Booker had not been back. Jose had said before he and Donita left to spend the Christmas holidays with family in Laredo that he might be able to find a couple of reliable hands if Ellen didn't mind hiring old men.

At this point Ellen would have hired anything on two legs that could lift a bale of hay—or even a split bale.

“They're not real old, they're what you might called ‘well seasoned.' Trouble is, most big outfits don't want geezers on the payroll. Claim they're not cost-effective.”

“I can't offer health insurance, or even a place to stay. Meals, of course…”

“These guys are on Medicare, and if you don't mind, they could fix up a place in the tractor shed.”

“Well, sure. I mean, I suppose so. They can work, can't they? I mean, they're not that old?”

Jose grinned, revealing a glint of gold. “No, ma'am, they're what you might call the perfect age. Got all the hell-raisin' out of their systems, now they're ready to settle down and work. Takes some longer than others to figure out that work's where a man finds real satisfaction.”

So Ellen tentatively agreed to interview the two men who would be showing up sometime tomorrow. She wished she knew more about men in general. Wished Jose and Donita hadn't had to leave. Wished Spence had never recovered his memory and—

Oh, no, she didn't wish that. She had more than her share of shortcomings, but selfishness wasn't among them.

“Mom, if I get a dog for Christmas, could I call him Stormy?”

That was Pete. No beating around the bush, hinting at what Santa Claus might bring him. He was young for his age in some ways because she'd had a tendency to baby him, but at eight, he was too old for fairy tales. Ellen only wished she could make the same claim.

Actually, she'd just seen a cute puppy out at the pound yesterday. It would cost more than she could easily afford to get his shots brought up to date, as she'd just bought a practically new bike from the thrift shop, but when she'd seen the pup's funny face and that stub of a tail wagging madly, she'd fallen in love.

“Stormy it is, then. If we get a dog.”

“Aw, Mom, I'm too old for surprises.”

Ellen reached up and caught her son, tugging him down onto her lap. “You're ancient. You're so old you're getting mossy.” She plucked a stalk of hay from Pete's hair and tickled him. He had grown up too quickly. She used to spend hours rocking him, singing—taking such comfort from the feel of his small, warm body. Jake had accused her of waking him from a sound sleep just to rock him, and she hadn't denied it.

She wouldn't trade a single moment of his childhood for any amount of treasure. He was all she had now, and they would do just fine. And if she spent a part of each night remembering—wishing for something more, then she could just
un
remember and
un
wish. Get real, as one of her friends from school used to say.

“Mom, do you know Spence's address? I made him a picture so he wouldn't forget us, but it doesn't have a frame or glass or anything, so we could mail it, couldn't we?” Pete's small face puckered into a frown. “Mom, did you get something in your eye? 'Cause I
know how to get it out. See, you grab hold of your eyelashes on top and pull 'em down over the bottom ones, and it sort of squeezes out whatever's in there. I could help you if you want me to.”

O
n his own ranch some thirty-five miles north of town, Spence glanced around one last time. He'd been there for the past few days, after winding up his affairs in town. He was alone now, his housekeeper and manager having just left to do last-minute Christmas shopping. Elnora had packed what she called his survival kit, an assortment of holiday delicacies, for him to take with him. The pup was waiting for him outside, yapping her head off. He didn't know how much of that Ellen would put up with. The collie pup had seemed quiet at the pet shop.

His suitcase was ready, sitting beside the front door. He'd already packed more than enough for several days, including his best boots, his work boots and a pair of sneakers. He had no intention of stepping into Jake Wagner's shoes in any but the figurative sense.

He almost wished he'd waited on the packing, though. Maybe he was taking too much for granted, showing up on her doorstep, bag and baggage. For all he knew, she might consider herself well rid of him, considering she hadn't been too happy with the arrangements he'd made for her safekeeping.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he said decisively as he scooped up the large box containing smoked turkey, sweet potato casserole, cookies, fruit-cake and the world's richest chocolate pie, Elnora's
specialty. One way or another, he told himself as he shifted the bike and the dog carrier to make room for the food box, things would work out. They had to, because a life without Ellen and Pete wasn't worth living.

What had that woman done to him? He asked himself for the hundredth time since he'd left her at a low-rent resort called Greasy Pond. He only hoped it worked both ways, because if it didn't, he had the case of his life to prove.

He should have called first. Should have called three days ago. After securing the bike so that it wouldn't topple over, the food box so that it wouldn't slide, he poked a treat through the gate of the dog carrier. “You're going to love these people, Lady,” he said to the wistful canine face that peered through the wire at him.

Then, sliding in under the wheel, he dialed Ellen's number on his car phone. And listened while it rang, and rang, and rang. “Come on, sweetheart, answer the phone…tell me you're as eager to see me as I am to see you.” She must be out in the barn. One of the first things he was going to do was run the phone line to the barn and into every room in the house, then buy her half a dozen cell phones if that was what it took to keep track of her.

He let it ring ten times. Okay, so he'd show up unannounced and play it by ear. Probably be better anyway—catch her off guard, before she had her defenses locked in place. He'd run into those defenses before and damned near come out a loser.

Without a backward glance, Spence Harrison drove away from the ranch he'd bought with the idea of retiring after a few more years to raise horses, play poker
and undertake the occasional covert mission with his old friends should the occasion arise. But fighting corruption took a lot out of a man who wasn't getting any younger.

Spence knew he should have called Ellen to let her know he was coming. Not to ask permission, just to give her warning, in case she didn't want to see him again. But he'd been going flat-out for the past forty-eight hours, contacting the appropriate people and arranging to turn over the rest of the evidence he'd compiled against the mob, and then doing it. On top of that there had been the covert meetings, alerting key people that the new acting D.A. was corrupt and steering them in the direction of indisputable evidence.

Only when all that was done did he leave everyone from the attorney general on down in stunned disbelief by turning in his resignation, effective immediately. He'd cleared out his files, all the while networking with Tyler and Flynt as to Luke's condition and how best to effect the rescue of Commander Westin.

It occurred to him that, with the exception of those few weeks when he'd been out of circulation, he'd been going flat-out ever since Judge Bridges had managed to get him admitted to the Virginia Military Institute. God, that had been—how many years ago? The judge had threatened to toss him in the slammer and throw away the key if he got any grade below a B on a single course.

After that had come the military, the Gulf War, including captivity. Once he'd mustered out of the marines he'd gone after his law degree with an idea of repaying the judge for his unwavering faith.

During all that time, his personal life had been put
on hold. And now he desperately wanted a personal life—a family, a home and a career that wasn't fueled by caffeine and adrenaline.

Had he left it too late? For a supposedly intelligent man, one who was widely known for his incisive intellect and his delicate hand at negotiations, he might have screwed this one up before he could even make his case. If she said no, he was busted. Flat-out washed up. Never in his life had he begged for anything, not even when he'd been charged with reckless endangerment after Haley had disappeared, supposedly drowned when an overloaded boat full of beer-drinking revelers had overturned in Luke's private lake one dark night.

He'd managed to get through that—they all had, with the judge's help. God knows why, but the judge had believed them—believed in them.

This time Spence was prepared to do whatever it took. Bended knee—the whole routine. He'd bought a ring. Nothing ostentatious because that wasn't Ellen's style. For Pete he'd bought the pup and a bike that was a little large for him now, but one he'd grow into. Something to live up to, to look forward to—that was important for kids. If he'd had a single goal back when he was Pete's age other than being the biggest, toughest rat in the pack, it might not have taken a head-on collision with the law to turn him around.

Rambling thoughts, increasingly tense, used up the minutes as the miles flew past. Little had changed since that day almost a month ago when his whole life had been turned upside down in one split second. With the window down, he sped past field after field of produce, orchard after orchard of citrus fruit, and pasture after pasture of beef cattle. The mingled smells of grass, grapefruit and cattle manure was as good as it got, he
told himself. Mission Creek was a fine town, no better and probably no worse than any small town where bloodlines and blood feuds went back for generations. He wasn't a part of all that. Had been for a while—although not the bloodlines—but he wouldn't be sorry for a change of venue.

When he pulled into the yard, he realized things looked pretty much the same as when he'd left. Compared to his own small, well-managed operation, Ellen's place was downright shabby. Small house, attractive despite the chipped paint, the leaning antenna, the shaggy, overgrown shrubbery and patch of weeds out back that was supposed to have been a kitchen garden, only Ellen said she'd never had time to spend on it.

For a woman who had grown up in Ellen's circumstances, she had a pretty firm grip on reality. One of the first things Spence had done when he'd got back to town was check out Leonard Summerlin in case he suddenly needed to relocate Ellen and Pete. The report had summed him up as an international investment broker and aging playboy, recently remarried, reported to be undergoing treatment for prostate cancer. Evidently Summerlin had inherited money and used it to make more. Nothing wrong with that. He'd been a good parent as far as anyone knew, but a lousy role model. Whatever had happened between Ellen and her father—she'd told him some of it, but he had an idea there was more—Spence intended to do all he could to mend fences, especially now that the old man might be facing a challenge to his health. Knowing Ellen, she'd never forgive herself if her father died before she could forgive him.

But first he had a few fences of his own to mend.

 

They were gone. The first thought that ran through his mind when he knocked on the door a third time, rattled the knob and waited was that she'd already set out to mend her own fences by taking Pete to Austin for the holidays.

Instead of feeling glad, he felt betrayed.

He knocked again just to be sure. If she happened to be upstairs, she might not have heard him. He glanced toward the barn, saw that the horses were outside, the two foals with their dams in one pasture, separated from Zeus and the geldings.

She wouldn't go off and leave her stock untended, not the Ellen he knew. Nor would she have gone off and left Booker and Clyde to look after things. But, there was no sign of the small truck.

The duelly was there, however, parked beside the horse trailer. Rattling the door again, he yelled, “Ellen!”

Then he moved to the edge of the porch and called again, in case she happened to be in the backyard hanging clothes.

She wasn't there.

Suddenly he felt as if a cold north wind had just blown across his naked skin. Just because she wasn't here didn't mean anything had happened to her. The first thing he'd done was to make damn sure she was safe, especially after Beau had called to say she'd insisted on returning home.

But two nights ago one of Del Brio's hit men had been killed when his car had gone off the road at a high rate of speed. According to the EMT who was one of the first to arrive on the scene, the man had been covered with tattoos. Further checking indicated that Silent Sal had disappeared and was rumored to be
headed south across the border. One of the new hires at the police department was checking into the case. Spence had met the detective and been favorably impressed.

“Ellen, where the hell are you?” he muttered now, more worried than he wanted to admit.

She was obviously away on some errand. A Christmas program at school, maybe at church. There was a wreath of fresh greenery on the door. He recognized Pete's artistic efforts. The plastic jet model didn't add a whole lot of color, but the effect was cheerful enough.

“Damn it, Ellen, I need you to be here!”

Beside him, the pup whimpered. He'd let her out on a leash to do her business, and now she was wedged up against his leg. “Sorry, pal, looks like we might have to change our holiday plans.”

It was then that he heard the sound of a truck negotiating the rutted driveway, which hadn't improved in the short time since he'd left. He watched the red pickup pull over toward the barn. Brake lights flashed briefly when she caught sight of his new 4x4, then the passenger door opened and Pete spilled out, his arms holding a squirming bundle of tan fur.

“Uh-oh. Lady, I think we may be redundant,” Spence said softly to the timid creature at his side. The dog he'd called Lady for her gender and delicate features whimpered and leaned against his leg. Reaching down, he scratched her ears.

“Spence! Mom, Spence is here! Hurry!” Pete started running toward the house, clutching a squirming pup in his arms. “I knew you'd come back. Mom didn't believe me, but I told her— Is that your dog? Hey, we've both got a dog now, that's totally cool!”

By that time Pete and the mongrel pup were on the
porch. The two dogs were going through the canine ritual of establishing rank. Ellen stepped down from the truck and stopped, one hand on the door. When she made no move to come closer, Spence left Pete to look after both pups, loped down the front steps and hurried across the clearing before she could change her mind.

“Ellen? I, uh, thought I'd come by and wish you a merry Christmas.”

She looked angry. Not a good sign, not good at all. “I brought Pete a surprise, but it looks like I'm a little late. I can pretend she's mine.”

Ellen's lips tightened. Her eyes flashed green fire in a face that was so damned dear to him it was all he could do not to clasp it between his hands and kiss her until neither of them could remember what it was she was holding against him.

He knew what he'd like for her to hold against him. Her body, baggy jeans, faded shirt and all.

She continued to look him over, evidently not particularly liking what she saw. He'd showered, shaved and dressed in a suit and tie, even splashed on a palmful of cologne. At the moment he felt distinctly over-dressed.

She stared at his boots, which had probably cost more than she spent in feed for all her stock in a month. A lot more. So he did what any good lawyer would do, he created a diversion.

“Things are looking good around here,” he said with a smile that had to be forced. He felt cold. Cold and scared. “I see Miss Sara had her foal. A filly? She looks good, too, from what I can see.”

Silence. He wouldn't go so far as to call it a chilling silence, but it wasn't exactly warm, either. So he tried again. “The, uh, the Christmas wreath looks good. If
I know Pete, he probably wanted to top the Christmas tree with a Delta Wing jet instead of an angel. Hey, you need a hand unloading anything? I mean, as long as I'm here…” He figured she'd probably been doing some last-minute shopping, as the stores would be closed tomorrow.

“You're not staying,” she said flatly.

“I'm not? I mean, of course I'm not. Wouldn't think of it. Like I said, I just came by to drop off—”

She was struggling to drag a twenty-five-pound sack of puppy food out from behind the driver's seat. Carefully edging her aside, he did it for her.

“To drop off what? That dog? If you had any notion of leaving her here, we already have a dog. We just got back from the pound.”

“Yeah, I see. Looks like Pete's tickled with her. Him. Whatever.”

“As long as you're here, would you mind giving me a hand unloading the bike from the duelly as soon as Pete goes inside? I picked it up from the shop while he was at Joey's house the other day, but it's jammed in behind the seat and I can't get it out.”

“The bike?”

“You know…a bicycle? The thing that got blown away last month?” She stared up at him, the first hint of concern touching her features. “Spence, what is it? What's wrong? Are you— Is your head—”