Roark wasn’t deceived by her eagerness. His mother and father were obviously trying to keep him distracted. He was in no mood to accommodate them, but he did his best to fill them in on the whole story, though his explanation didn’t lessen his concern about Samantha.
“Alex McKenzie’s father has been charged with collusion,” Roark said, “and that’s why our local sheriff is involved in the case, though, of course, Alex will stand trial in Colorado where he’s being held.”
Casey nodded. “Yes, Sheriff Poltry did mention that. Something connected with the McKenzies having serious money problems, I think he said.”
“Right, which is why the dinosaur fossils were so important to them. They knew Joe Walker would never part with a single acre, but if he was eliminated and his ranch went to the Western Museum, as he’d always said it would—”
“But the ranch was to go to Samantha, wasn’t it, dear?” Moura interrupted him.
“Not at first. That only happened after Joe survived the attack on him and changed his will in the hospital. That meant Samantha was eligible to inherit the estate, and even if she put the ranch on the market, the McKenzies wouldn’t have been able to afford to make an offer on it. But if Samantha failed to qualify, the Walking W would go to the Western Museum, and since the senior McKenzie had friends on its governing board—”
“Ah, I’m beginning to see the cunning at work here,” Casey said. “Your hand bothering you, son?”
Roark looked down at his hand, realizing that he had been exercising its fingers again. Nerves, he thought. “No. And the McKenzies were cunning about it. They realized that if Samantha was out of the way, they could make use of their original plan.”
“And what was that, dear?” Moura asked him.
“Since the monastery would get all of Joe Walker’s other assets,” Roark explained, “it would leave the museum needing operating funds for the Walking W. Alex’s father would have had no trouble convincing the board for a nominal sum to sell him a corner of the ranch to add to his own spread. A corner that happened to include a ravine rich with dinosaur fossils worth a fortune on any market, illegal or otherwise. And when enough time had passed to make it look like nothing more than a lucky find, Alex would have pretended to discover those fossils.”
“But until then his discovery had to be protected,” Casey realized.
“Exactly. Alex was desperate about anyone getting anywhere near his secret. Like Shep Thomas. My interest about ancient artifacts, and the possibility of them existing in the caves in the ravine, got the trail boss thinking. He remembered how weeks ago, when he was on his rounds, he found Alex in the ravine. Alex told him he was looking for one of his father’s missing beeves, and at the time Shep accepted that. But what if it was something else Alex wanted in that ravine?”
“Like dinosaur fossils,” Moura said.
“No, Ma, Shep wouldn’t have guessed that. He would have thought it was valuable artifacts. He made the mistake of going to Alex the night he died, wanting a cut of whatever Alex might have found.”
“So Alex pushed him into that canyon,” Moura said, understanding what must have happened.
“And threw the books he’d taken from my bag after him so it would look like Shep was trying to destroy those books in a drunken rage and fell to his death in the fog.”
The envelope containing the earlier photographs Wendell had taken of the ravine had also been in his saddlebag, Roark remembered. They had been right there with the books, and if Alex had known of their existence… But he hadn’t, of course.
“That makes it murder, all right,” Casey said. “Not that I hope McKenzie’s full confession will do him much good when he stands trial.”
“What about Ernie Chacon?” Moura asked, leaning forward in the swing she shared with her husband. “Where did he come into it?”
“Ernie was dangerous to Alex,” Roark said. “He knew all about Alex’s paleontology studies, and that threatened his secret. That’s why the sly bastard wanted him gone from the cattle drive. Which he achieved by making sure we all knew of Ernie’s bad-boy reputation and that he was probably responsible for the troubles on the drive.”
“Ruthless young man, wasn’t he?” Roark’s mother could switch topics in midstream faster than anyone he knew, and she did so now. “I never noticed it before this.”
“What, Ma?” he asked, stirring restlessly on his perch, impatient to be out in the crowd again seeking an explanation for Samantha’s vanishing act.
“Madeline,” she said, gazing into the yard where Roark’s sister-in-law stood chatting with the other members of the family while her husband, Mitch, hovered nearby, keeping a solicitous eye on his hugely pregnant wife. “I think she’s bigger with that baby than our Christy was with hers at this stage.”
“Big babies run in the family,” Casey reminded her, proud of the height of his three sons and eldest daughter, Eden, even though he, himself, was of a short stature.
Roark twisted around on the railing to view his brothers and sisters and their children. Devlin and his wife, Karen, had three youngsters chasing happily around the yard while Christy’s husband, Dallas, held their infant son in his arms. Looking at them, Roark thought sourly that
maybe he would never have a brood of his own. Not if the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children had skipped out on him.
“Anyway,” Moura said, “where were we? Oh, yes, you were telling us what we didn’t learn from your local sheriff.”
“Which Roark has already done,” Casey said. “So it’s all settled now. Except for the Walking W. What happens to that?”
“Samantha is keeping it in the family as her grandfather wanted,” Roark told them. “It’ll be operated under the direction of the Western Museum, which will keep it open to educate the public on ranching in Texas. Place should be of real interest now that the longhorns are in place. As for the fossils in the ravine, they’ll be responsibly excavated by professionals. The profits from them will benefit everyone, including the St. James Monastery. It’s all Samantha’s idea.”
“Speaking of which,” Casey said matter-of-factly, nodding in the direction of the driveway, “here’s your bride now. Safe and sound, just like we all told you she would be.”
Roark was off the porch as if shot from a cannon and racing toward the driveway where Samantha had just emerged from her car. She looked radiant in a silky full-skirted creamy affair, with flowers woven through her lustrous chestnut hair. And he was furious with her. Which it was difficult to be since the smile she directed at him was doing exciting things to his heart, never mind several other areas of his body.
“Where the devil have you been?” he thundered when he reached her, taking her hands in both of his just to be sure she was really here and still belonged to him.
“Why, just down the road, of course,” she said mildly.
“I’ve been sick with worry.”
“I’m sorry, darling. You were so busy thanking Wendell for his legwork and for taking all those photographs
that I didn’t want to interrupt. But I told Ramona where I was going and why. Didn’t she give you my message?”
“Ramona,” he informed her in exasperation, “is in no state to remember anything. Ernie arrived just after you disappeared, and he wasn’t alone. The director of the Western Museum was with him.”
“His father?” Samantha said, her eyes glowing with pleasure. “You mean he’s finally recognized his son?”
“Looks like it. Anyway, the three of them are over on the other side of the yard engaged in a family reunion. Down the road? Where down the road?”
“The cemetery. It was all the flowers here. I looked around and decided that it couldn’t wait, that I had to take some and lay them on his grave.”
“Your grandfather,” Roark said, beginning to understand her errand.
“It was time to make peace with him, lay all the ghosts to rest. I knew suddenly that I had to do that before we were married, a clean start, and it was something I had to do alone. Did I do the right thing?”
“Yes, you did the right thing.” Roark drew her toward him, releasing her hands in order to gather her into his arms. “You are one hell of a woman, Samantha Howard, and I am the luckiest guy in Texas.”
He kissed her long and deeply, demonstrating his love for her with every nuance of his body molded to hers. There was no telling how much more he would have eagerly expressed, and in what manner, if they hadn’t been interrupted by the husky voice of his eldest brother, Devlin.
“I think as best man it’s my duty to point out to you that all this is supposed to wait until after you’ve exchanged the ‘I do’s.”
Roark reluctantly ended the kiss and swung around to face his grinning brother. “Bad timing, Dev. Okay, lead the way then so we can take care of that little formality.”
He was suddenly impatient to have the ceremony and
banquet ended and all of them gone so he could carry his wife into their bedroom, where he hoped to get a start on that brood of their own.
Meanwhile, he thought, catching up Samantha’s willing hand in his own and hurrying her in the direction of the arbor, he would have to be content with an exchange of their vows sealed by a kiss that he intended to be a promise of forever.
Come to think of it, that wasn’t such a bad thing to settle for.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4093-3
COWBOY PI
Copyright © 2003 by Jean Barrett
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The Hawke Detective Agency