Bittersweet (8 page)

I put down my knife. It was time to face facts. “Mom,” I said quietly, “how in the world are you going to manage? I mean, it's entirely possible that Sam won't be able to help with the guest rooms, not to mention the cooking and the logistics. You're going to need somebody here on the ranch to do the heavy work and help with the guests and—”

“Oh, that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Don't worry about it, dear. I've already got it all figured out.”

“Figured out how?” I asked, trying not to sound as worried as I felt. I didn't want to discourage her, just to make her look at things realistically. The sanctuary was a beautiful place, and I was sure it would attract plenty of guests. But except for the little town of Utopia some fifteen miles away, it's isolated. Leatha and Sam would find it difficult to hire anybody to come in by day, and the chances of locating live-in help were slim, at least at the wages they could afford. And they would need help, lots of it. Leatha was past sixty-five now, and Sam . . . well, to put it in the best light, Sam was recovering from serious heart surgery.

But if Leatha had heard my worry, she was ignoring it. She took a large spoon out of a drawer and began stirring the chili. “It was a stroke of luck, actually. Lucky for us, I mean—not for her. I hate to take advantage of somebody else's heartache, but in this case, we're helping each other out of a tight spot.” She put down the spoon and turned to face me.
“Sue Ellen Krause is going to move into the lodge and give us a hand until Sam is back on his feet.”

“Sue Ellen Krause?” I frowned. The name was familiar, but I couldn't place her.

“I've mentioned her before, but I don't think you've met her. She's been at the Three Gates Game Ranch for five or six years, managing the guest lodge there. She's had a
lot
of experience dealing with guests. I know she'll be a big help.”

I began slicing the cucumber. I visited Three Gates a couple of years ago with Sam. At 4,200 acres, it's one of the largest game ranches in Uvalde County. Completely surrounded by an eight-foot high-tensile galvanized wildlife fence, it's located five or six miles south, between the Sabinal River and Blanco Creek. It belongs to three Gateses: Jim Gates, Houston's most famous brain surgeon, and his two sons, Benny and Alec, lawyers practicing in San Antonio.

The ranch isn't the Gates family's home on the range, though. It's strictly an investment. A
humongous
investment, when you figure in all the costs. I looked up the ranch on the Internet after my visit there and found that they have trophy white-tails, which are bred on the ranch, as well as elk, axis deer, fallow deer, sika deer, buffalo, and several other high-dollar exotics. Then there's the the hunting lodge, the swimming pool, the fishing lake, and the payroll for the staff it takes to maintain and service the place. And that fence. At twenty thousand dollars a mile, the fence alone would've set the three Gateses back by almost a quarter of a million dollars. All those costs can be written off against their income. Even a brain surgeon and a pair of lawyers can figure out that a hunting ranch doesn't have to make money to make money, when it comes to what they owe Uncle Sam on April 15.

I dumped the sliced cucumber into the salad and started to work on the avocado. “If Sue Ellen Krause is coming to work for you, she must've left Three Gates. How come?”

Leatha gave a little sigh. “She and her husband, Jack, are getting a divorce—that's the heartache. He's the assistant foreman at the ranch. He's been making things . . . well, difficult.” Putting place mats, plates, and large soup bowls on the table in front of the window, she added, “The situation has gotten too intense, so she's decided it's time to get away.” She looked up at the clock over the sink. “In fact, she'll be here any minute. She's coming for supper.”

“Tonight?” I asked in surprise, then noticed that Leatha had laid out
four
red plaid place mats and was putting down four plates and bowls.

“Uh-huh.” Leatha got a handful of silverware out of a drawer. “She phoned me this morning and said that she and Jack had a big fight and asked if she could move in this evening instead of next week, as we were planning. I'm sure the ranch manager at Three Gates must hate to see her go, especially during hunting season. They're probably booked full. I hope he doesn't think that Sam and I have hired her away.” She paused, surveying the table. “Of course, we won't have any real work for her until the guests start arriving in January.”

“But she can help you get set up,” I said. To myself, I added,
And she would be here, in case . . . well, in case Sam's recuperation didn't go as well as we all hoped.

“Of course, we can't pay her what she's worth.” Leatha began laying the silverware beside the plates. “But we can give her a safe, rent-free place to stay for as long as she needs it, which is what matters most right now. She's really sweet, China—and so kind and thoughtful. She always calls to let me know she's going shopping down in Uvalde and asks me
what she can get for us or what errands she can run. She's a local girl, so she knows her way around. And she's been such a help to me.”

“That's nice,” I murmured. I felt vaguely uncomfortable at the thought that another woman was running my mother's errands for her—and then wondered why I felt that way. I hoped I wasn't jealous. Shouldn't I be glad?

“It
is
nice. It's such a neighborly thing, not something you expect from most young women these days.” Leatha put four red napkins down, one beside each setting. “She brings me little gifts—you know, candy and soap, even my favorite perfume. And she called right away when she heard about Sam, wanting to know what she could do to help.” She looked up at me and smiled in that twinkly way of hers. “Sue Ellen can't begin to take the place of my dear daughter China, but it'll be good to have her living here with us, even if it's only for a few months. And she's looking forward to meeting you.” She put salt and pepper shakers on the table. “She might even have some questions for you about her divorce. She seemed especially interested when I told her that you're a lawyer.”

“I'm not
that
kind of lawyer, Mom,” I protested. In my former incarnation, I was a criminal defense attorney. I know next to nothing about family law.

“Of course, dear,” Leatha replied soothingly. “But you may be able to answer some of Sue Ellen's questions. And I'm sure that just talking to you will help her feel better. Please do what you can, China—she's been so helpful to me.”

I know my mother wasn't trying to make me feel guilty, but I couldn't help feeling guilty anyway—which may be the lot of
all
daughters, for all I know. I reminded myself that I ought to be thrilled to learn that my mother had somebody she could turn to when her daughter wasn't
around (which was almost all the time). Sue Ellen could be the heaven-sent answer to my worry about how Leatha was going to manage.

“Of course I'll be glad to talk to her,” I replied. “And I'm relieved to know that you'll have some experienced help here.”

“I am, too,” Leatha said. “She may not stay more than a few months, though. She plans to go to college. She knows she needs a degree to get ahead in this world.”

“Good for her,” I said heartily. “But I hope she stays long enough for you to get this new enterprise under way. And for Sam to get a nice, long rest.”

When I talked to Sue Ellen that evening, I'd be sure to make that point.

Mack had been out on patrol until after 2 a.m. on Wednesday morning, and since she was off duty for the day, she was hoping to sleep a little later. But her cell phone woke her at seven fifteen. They had a lion.

Before she went out the night before, she had met Gene Murray, the Utopia constable, at the mountain lion trap. They replaced the overripe deer carcass with a feral hog that Gene's brother-in-law had shot on his ranch south of town. The nonnative wild pigs were the offspring of pigs brought by early Spanish settlers. Remarkably prolific and incredibly damaging, they rooted up crops, killed young livestock, and were a threat to native wildlife and the environment. Young pigs were excellent eating, although the old boar that Gene's brother-in-law had shot would be gamey and tough as tanned cowhide. But he turned out to be just what the mountain lion was looking for. Gene was calling to tell Mack there was a lion in her trap.

Mack climbed into jeans, boots, and a green hoodie over a couple of sweaters—it was cold now, but by midmorning the temperature would be in the sixties and she'd be peeling off the layers. While her coffee was
brewing, she called Karen and told her the news. (“Yes, it's a lion. Honest. Get here as quick as you can.”) She consoled Molly, who wanted to ride along, then grabbed a to-go mug of hot coffee and backed her old blue Toyota pickup out of the single-car garage. She was reluctant to take it because it was running rough, hesitating when she was accelerating, surging when she was idling. But Karen didn't have a truck they could use, and this morning's job was definitely not official business. She needed to use her own vehicle, not the state truck, and was crossing her fingers that the Toyota wouldn't give her any trouble.

Karen, an athletic young woman with gold-rimmed glasses and short-clipped, spiky blond hair, met Mack at the trap an hour later. “Hey, nice!” she said, getting a good look at the lion, a handsome, healthy-looking young male with tawny fur. She sedated him. Then, working quickly and efficiently, she and Mack fitted him with a GPS radio collar, weighed and measured him, and collected blood, DNA, and feces samples.

The prep work done, the two women loaded the cage into the back of Mack's Toyota and drove it some thirty miles to Karen's study area at the far northwestern corner of the county, wild hill-and-savannah country on the far side of Boiling Mountain, where there would be plenty of prey. They unloaded the cage beside a clear creek, and Karen turned on her tracking gear and checked the radio collar's transmission, a steady
beep-beep-beep
. Then Mack released the lion while Karen snapped photos. The two of them retreated to the safety of the truck and watched as the groggy animal got to his feet and stumbled off into the brush. He could be expected to live for another eight years or so, but he might not live out his natural life. Karen had collared and released seven other lions
in the past several years. Two of them had been struck by vehicles, and three of them had been shot.

“Damn shame,” Karen had said when she told Mack about it. “The lions cull the weaker deer and keep the exotic population down. But you can't convince the ranchers of that. They shoot on sight, even when there's no evidence of predation.”

Mack, as a conservationist, hated the situation. Texas was the only state in the union where the killing of mountain lions was unregulated. There were no bag limits, no permit requirements. All you had to do was aim and fire. You didn't even need to report your kills. In Mack's opinion, it was time to start implementing a plan to maintain a viable population. By helping Karen, she was doing what she could.

Mission accomplished, Mack started the truck and they drove off, bouncing along the gravel track barely etched out in the short grass along a dry creek bed. Karen glanced at her.

“I've been meaning to ask. How's it going with your new guy, what's-his-name?” Karen was the matchmaker who had brought Mack and Lanny together, back in college. Since the divorce, she had taken an interest in Mack's love life—or rather, the lack thereof.

“His name is Derek,” Mack said, and hesitated. Karen was the closest thing to a best friend she'd ever had, and rooming with her in college had been fun. But growing up, she had spent more time with guys—her father, her brothers, their friends. She'd never really learned the easy girl-talk that other girls seemed to know instinctively, especially when the subject was boys and sex. “It's going okay, I guess,” she added. “And I've met his daughters. Two. Teens.” She made a little face. “I can't say that I was a big hit with them.”

“Daughters are tough,” Karen said with sympathy. “Especially teens. They tend to be possessive of fathers. Been to bed with him yet?” She chuckled at the look on Mack's face. “Just thought I'd ask, Mack. You don't have to tell, if it's a state secret. But don't forget—I used to be a girl. And I was standing right beside you when you and Lanny got married.”

“It's not a secret, exactly,” Mack said, feeling the heat rise up her neck and trying to hide her embarrassment. “It's just that . . . I mean, yeah, maybe we did, a couple of times.”

“
Maybe
you did?” Karen rolled her eyes.

“Okay, we did. Twice. But I'm not sure I . . .” Mack's voice trailed off.

“Hey.” Karen laughed, crinkling her nose. “I'm just teasing. And it's okay. Not every guy can be a super stud right out of the starting gate. Some of them just need a little encouragement, especially the first time or two. He'll get better at it.”

Mack colored. “It's not Derek,” she said. “He's fine. I mean, he's really good.” Remembering, she had to admit that this was true. He
had
been really good; expert, even. That wasn't the problem. “It's me. I just didn't feel . . . well, turned on. The tingle was sort of missing.” She managed a little shrug, as careless as she could make it, which wasn't very. “I guess maybe I'm just out of practice. Or—” She stopped.

“Or maybe you're still hot for Lanny?” Karen inquired gently.

“I don't think so,” Mack said, trying very hard to be honest. “If that's true, my conscious mind doesn't know anything about it.”

But even while she was denying it, she felt a little panicky. Was some part of her still in love with Lanny? Was her past marriage, her
failed
marriage, going to get in the way of her future relationships—with Derek or anybody else?

“Well, don't push yourself if it doesn't feel right,” Karen cautioned in
a practical tone. “I'm of the opinion that sex is a pretty good barometer of a relationship. You can keep trying, but if the chemistry isn't working, there's probably a reason. You'll figure it out when it's time.” She paused, slanting Mack a look. “On the other hand, maybe you're just not ready to get crazy about another guy. You think?”

Mack pictured Derek, with his quirky eyebrow, his quick laugh, his concern for her safety, which was both touching and troublesome. Was there a reason—a
real
reason—she wasn't already crazy about him? But if there were answers to these questions, Mack didn't know what they were.

To Mack's relief, the Toyota made the trip with only a couple of rough-running episodes, and they were back in Utopia by lunchtime. Mack pulled up next to Karen's car, which they'd left on Main Street, across from the café. “Want to get a sandwich before you go back to San Antonio?” she asked.

“I'll have to take a rain check,” Karen said. “I've got Boyce's family coming for Thanksgiving tomorrow, and I need to go home and get started doing turkey stuff.” She put her hand on Mack's arm. “Hey, if you don't already have an invitation, why don't you drive to San Antonio and eat with us? My brother will be there. He's single again, and he's a pretty hunky guy. I think you'd like him.” She grinned. “I
know
he'd like you, especially if you wore that red dress Lanny got you a couple of Christmases ago.”

“Thanks, but I've already got two invitations,” Mack said. “Derek asked me to his place for brunch, and I'm supposed to have dinner with some friends at four. If I tried to squeeze in another meal, I wouldn't be able to waddle. Anyway, I'm on call, so I need to stay in the county. And being on call means that the dress is out.” She chuckled at the thought of
apprehending a jacklighter in that sinfully tight red dress. He'd think she was soliciting.

Karen raised her eyebrows. “You're laughing?” she demanded. “You think it's funny to be on patrol every night and on call on Thanksgiving Day?” She shook her head, frowning. “My life can be a little nuts sometimes, but yours is downright crazy, girl—
all
the time. You will never find a guy who'll put up with it.”

“Maybe,” Mack said ruefully. “It's a good thing I'm not dying for a guy.” Which was true, she told herself. Derek was okay, and they might even make it together. But love and marriage—or love and sex, or even just sex—were not at the top of her priority list. “At least, not until the end of hunting season,” she added, with a crooked grin. “Maybe I'll take a rain check on meeting your hunky brother. The load gets lighter in January.”

“Atta girl,” Karen said. “Just remember that I'm here for you.” She reached for the door handle then stopped, peering through the windshield. “Whoa.” She gave a low whistle. “Talk about hunky. Who the devil is
that
,
Mackenzie?”

Mack glanced at the dark-haired, uniformed man who had just gotten out of the white sheriff's department pickup parked in front of the café. He turned around, got his white Stetson out of the truck, and put it on. As he did, he looked up and saw Mack, squinted as if he wasn't quite sure who she was, then waved.

Surprised that he had recognized her, Mack waved back. “That's Ethan Conroy. He's the new deputy sheriff. He's been on the job for a month or so. We've met, but we haven't had a chance to work together yet. He's been mostly working the middle of the county, and I'm mostly up here.”

“Well, you should make an effort,” Karen pressed, following him with her glance. “Unless of course he's married. Is he?”

“No idea,” Mack replied. “I heard that he lives in Sabinal.” She watched as the deputy opened the café door and went in. She hadn't really noticed until Karen pointed it out, but he was pretty good-looking. Tall, broad shouldered, and lean, he wore an air of personal authority that was emphasized by the .357 on his hip.

“You ought to find out.” Karen raised an eyebrow suggestively. “I mean, if you and Derek aren't going to hit it off.” When Mack rolled her eyes, she added hastily, “Hey, I'm just offering a recommendation. You know how you are, Mackenzie. If I hadn't made you get your nose out of your textbook and comb your hair and put on some makeup, you and Lanny would never have gotten together.”

Mack had to admit that there was some justice in that last remark. She had been a conscientious student, and studying was a higher priority than dating. Even with Karen's encouragement, the thing with Lanny hadn't been quick and certainly not easy. He'd seemed confident from the beginning, but it had been over a year before she was sure that they were right together. When that had finally happened, she had found herself open and eager and absolutely positive that they could work out any obstacle the future might throw in their path. And look where that had gotten her.

Karen was going on. “And now you've got Molly and Cheyenne and your house in Utopia and the dream territory you always wanted, and you think everything's perfect. You think you don't need a guy in your life. And you're wrong.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Mack said, trying to ignore the irritation that bubbled up in her. Really. Why was Karen pushing her on this?

“I
mean
it,” Karen insisted. “And if you want to know what I really think, it's that you're holding back with this guy Derek because you're afraid of getting blindsided again. What Lanny did to you, I mean. Cheating. Betrayal.”

Blindsided? “It wasn't—” Mack stopped, biting her lip. “Don't blame Lanny, Karen. Whatever he did, he did because I made him unhappy
.
I mean, I wasn't . . . I wasn't right for him, as things turned out. I loved my job and he wanted me to—”

“He wanted you to quit because he couldn't take the competition,” Karen put in.

Mack frowned. “No. Really, Karen. When Lanny and I got married, I hadn't gotten started on my career. He didn't sign on for the way that turned out. The hours, I mean, and the fear and uncertainty, and—”

“Bull
feathers
,” Karen said emphatically. “Look, Mack. The truth is that Lanny likes to be the big star in everybody's universe, and when he's not, he gets his nose out of joint in a hurry. I didn't know that about him when I introduced the two of you, but I found it out pretty quick. And I was very proud of you when you told him to kiss off. In my opinion, he'd had it coming for quite a while.”