Dark Moon Crossing (16 page)

“You’re
welcome.” I shoved the car into gear again, but she didn’t move. I looked up
at her questioningly. “Is there something else?‌”

“Listen,
tell Lupe I did hear some news. My sources tell me that no one has seen or
heard from the guy for over two weeks now.”

Interesting.
By the time I reached the main road and turned south, my brain felt like a wet
sponge, unable to absorb one more drop of liquid. So many details whirled in
my head, I couldn’t think straight. What a pathetic reporter I was! Armed
with all the information I had, I still didn’t really know anything. This
story was far different from the other two blockbusters I’d tackled in the last
six months. This one seemed to have no clear focus, no apparent motive, and
yet I knew that nothing this weird happens without a reason. I thought about
what Mazzie La Casse had said about the unsuspecting illegals dying by the hundreds
from heat and exposure in the remote regions of the southwest deserts,
especially during the burning months of summer. Years could pass and still
hikers, campers and Border Patrol agents would stumble upon the sad
remains―a pile of sun-bleached bones, a watch, a coin, something, some
sign that the person had once resided on earth. So then, how could people just
vanish into thin air without any trace?‌ Wasn’t it entirely possible that
during the past two weeks the
coyote
in question had returned to Mexico,
been picked up by the Border Patrol or just melded into the Hispanic
population?‌ But on the other hand, if he had disappeared along with the other
passengers in the van carrying Javier’s mother and possibly Lupe’s relatives,
where was his body?‌ Where were the bodies of all the others?‌ More
importantly,
why
were these people missing?‌

All at once a feeling of intense weariness washed over
me. I felt utterly alone. Utterly overwhelmed. “Face it, O’Dell,” I
grumbled, “you’re in over your head on this one.” I was supposed to be on
vacation, damn it! I should be at home preparing for my romantic getaway with
Tally, and instead, because of my own bullheadedness, I’d chosen to make Lupe’s
seemingly unsolvable problem my own. Again, I wondered what had possessed me
to think I could unscramble a situation this complicated in one weekend?‌

Totally
immersed in thought, I almost drove past the turnoff to the Sundog Ranch. I
hit the brakes and turned right, passing under a graceful wooden arch flanked
by several sun-faded wagon wheels. After traveling for more than twenty
minutes along a well-worn dirt lane that meandered through miles of hilly
mesquite and yucca-covered rangeland dotted with grazing cattle, stock tanks
and spinning windmills, I began to appreciate just how big the place was.
Signs along side the road warned in both English and Spanish that this was
PRIVATE PROPERTY and NO TRESPASSING was permitted. Considering the ranch’s
close proximity to the border, the signs seemed ineffectual at best.

The
topography changed subtly as I drove toward the gentle foothills of the
Baboquivari Mountains. Spectacular upthrusts of smooth rounded sandstone
boulders in all shapes and sizes dramatically transformed the grassy landscape.
Lush green vegetation hugged the banks of a dry creek bed charting a serpentine
course among the outcroppings.

I was beginning to think the road would go on forever
when it suddenly widened into a sandy drive bordered by a white wooden fence
and shaded by tall cottonwood trees. When I rounded a corner, an impressive
two-story ranch house with a giant American flag billowing in the steady breeze
jumped into view. It was a large, rambling place sporting three large dormer
windows set against a red roof flanked by stone chimneys at each end. Beneath
the generous overhang a wide porch wrapped around both sides. Within easy
walking distance sat four white cottages nestled against the rocky hillside.
Bordering the north side of the main house lay a series of outbuildings and a
large red barn enclosed in pipe fencing. A string of horses stood at a long
hitching post. As I drew closer, a ripple of surprise snaked through me at the
sight of so many people packed into the clearing. I parked at the end of a row
of cars and walked towards the house while watching two tough-looking,
sun-weathered wranglers tighten saddle cinches and adjust stirrups for a group
of men, women and children sitting astride the waiting horses. The air was
filled with shrieks of laughter, bird song and lively chatter—a carnival-like
atmosphere totally different from Tally’s place, where raising cattle and
breeding Appaloosa horses was considered serious business. I searched my
memory. Why was it again that he’d had to come down here so many times these
past few months?‌

“Hello,” said a cheery female voice. “Can I help you
with something?‌”

I turned to see a smiling, pleasant-faced woman
standing on the porch. Smartly clad in a crisp white blouse, plaid vest and a
chocolate-colored broomstick skirt, she hooked a strand of wispy strawberry
blonde hair behind one ear while descending the stairs towards me.

I smiled back and extended a hand. “Hi, my name is
Kendall O’Dell. You’re probably expecting me.”

Still smiling, she stared at me, looking slightly
perplexed. “I’m sorry, do we have a reservation for you?‌”

After a slight hesitation, I repeated, “Reservation?‌”

“Well, don’t worry,” she assured me, appearing
slightly chagrined, “we’re still new at this and someone just probably forgot
to write your name down. I’m sure we can find space for one more.”

I stared at her uncomprehending for several seconds
before turning to look again at the boisterous group of people on horseback and
then back to the row of cars, many of which bore out of state license plates.
And then it hit me. The Sundog was a guest ranch. It also finally sank in
that some of the horses pawing the ground impatiently were handsome Appaloosas
just like the ones Tally raised. Had they come from the Starfire?‌ And if so,
why hadn’t Tally ever mentioned this to me?‌ Or, I thought uncomfortably,
perhaps he had and I hadn’t been listening.

“If you don’t mind sharing,” the woman went on, “I can
put you in one of the guest cottages with that nice lady from New Jersey over
there on the chestnut mare.”

“We’ve
got a little misunderstanding,” I said, turning back to her. “I’m here about
the injured cat.”

One
hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re the one Payton told us about.
If you can wait a few minutes, I’ll be glad to…oh, wait, here he comes now.”
She pointed towards the pickup rolling into the parking area. The decibel
level of the noisy crowd of trail riders rose as they urged a latecomer to
mount up. A heavyset man wearing spanking new blue jeans and a brightly
printed shirt that clearly indicated his ‘greenhorn’ status, waddled towards
the last horse for a leg up from the waiting wrangler. It took a couple of
tries before he made it into the saddle.

I
couldn’t suppress a grin. It hadn’t been that long ago, I’d worn a similar
outfit on my first horseback ride with Tally. Had that only been six months
ago?‌ I no longer felt like a newcomer, but it dawned on me watching this group
fumble around for stirrups and reins, that I wasn’t that far removed from my
‘city girl’ ways.

“Grandma, Grandma, look what Daddy found for me!”
shouted a small red-haired boy breaking from Payton’s side and running towards
us holding something high above his head. I returned Payton’s wave of greeting
as the woman knelt and spread her arms wide. “What have you got for me,
sweetie?‌”

“A
rattlesnake skin,” the excited child announced, extending his hand to show her
the gauzy brown and gold pattern. “Isn’t that cool?‌”

“Yes,
very,” she said, recoiling slightly. She stood and brushed her skirt as Payton
walked up. “I hope you’re careful when you take him on these snake hunting
jaunts with you.” There was an undertone of reproach in her voice.

“Please
don’t concern yourself, Twyla,” he answered evenly, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Rest assured that he’s never in any danger.”

“If
you say so.” Her head cocked at the sound of a phone ringing inside the open
front door of the big ranch house. “Excuse me, I have to get that.” She
trotted up the steps and Payton said, “Kendall—may I call you Kendall?‌”

“By
all means.”

“I’d
like you to meet my son, Brett. Brett, this is Kendall.”

“She
has the same color hair as us,” the little boy observed, staring up at me with
surprised eyes.

Payton
laughed. “Very true. This is the very nice lady who rescued the little kitty
earlier today.”

“It’s
actually your dad who rescued him,” I told him, wishing I could add,
‘And it
was your malicious uncle who tried to run over her
,’ but I contained myself
.
I would address that issue soon.

“You’ll
be happy to know that Dean has looked her over pretty thoroughly and seems to
feel that she’ll recover in time. Would you like to go see her?‌”

“Absolutely,
and if I could use a phone.…”

The
steady beat of horse hooves on the sandy earth interrupted my words. When I
turned to look, it seemed as if the tourists, ranch hands, and even the birds
had all fallen silent. Every eye was riveted on the young, blonde woman in the
hot pink shirt cantering into the clearing astride a stunning white Appaloosa
with a perfect dappled-gray blanket adorning its hindquarters. Aware that she
had a captive audience, she beamed us a winning smile and then demonstrated her
excellent horsemanship by maneuvering the animal to rear up on its hind legs
several times, each time waving her black hat to the appreciative crowd like a
rodeo queen. Amid the ooh’s and aahh’s from the trail riders, she trotted over
to us and dismounted with fluid grace. She tossed back long golden hair and
fixed a pair of reflective periwinkle blue eyes on me. “Hi, I’m Bethany
Beaumont. Welcome to the Sundog.”

For
some reason I could not begin to define, my reaction to her was unexpected, yet
instantaneous. I disliked her.

I
think she only half heard my name over Brett’s excited squeal. “Mommy! Look
what Daddy found for me. Can I keep it in my room?‌”

Her
facial muscles twitched in a valiant effort to repress her disgust at the sight
of the crinkly snakeskin. As he rushed towards her, she put a restraining hand
against one shoulder to hold him at arm’s length. “That’s really…exciting,
honey, but I’ll look at it closer another time, okay?‌” she said, ignoring the
boy’s crestfallen expression and locking her frosty blue gaze on Payton. “I
didn’t expect you to be here.” Her voice sounded flat, cold, impersonal.

“Sorry
to disappoint you,” he said, maintaining a light tone while shooting a worried
glance at Brett.

“It
wouldn’t be the first time.”

He
inhaled a deep controlling breath before saying quietly, “Save the sarcasm.
Now that you’ve seen fit to return from California, I’m afraid you’re going to
have to accept the fact that I intend to exercise my parental rights. You’ll
have to get used to me coming here.”

I
squirmed. Witnessing their very personal exchange made me ill at ease, but as I
considered Bethany Beaumont’s petite figure, stunningly beautiful features —
upturned nose, flawless sun-kissed skin, rosebud lips and dimpled chin—an indefinable
pang of apprehension chilled my heart.

An
older ranch hand with a sun-browned face called out, “Come on, Miss B, we got a
bunch of anxious cowpokes and gals champing at the bit to get a move on.” As
if to reinforce his statement, several of the horses whinnied and shook their
heads, jangling the reins.

She
glanced around and issued the man a dazzling smile that now seemed artificial
to me. So far I was less than enchanted with both of the Beaumont offspring.
“Be right there, Hal,” she answered in a singsong voice.

Returning her attention to Brett, she bent down to eye
level with him. “These nice people over here are waiting for Mommy to show them
some more of the ranch, so I’ll see you in a little while, okay?‌ Now run
inside and get Mommy’s black jacket, it might get chilly.” She cast an upward
glance at the swiftly moving clouds.

“Okay!” He flashed her an endearing smile, raced up
the steps and disappeared through the front door. Envying his escape, I
cleared my throat and pointed to my car. “Payton, I’ll wait for you over
there.”

Bethany stared at me blankly as if she’d forgotten I
was there and then her questioning gaze flickered between the two of us. “Oh?‌
I didn’t realize you were here together. How nice.” The insinuation in her
voice was clear, but before I could set the record straight Payton put up a
warning hand. “Kendall, stay. And, Bethany, if you still feel the need to
belittle me, could you please do it in private and not in front of Brett?‌”

“Did I ask for your opinion?‌” Their eyes clashed as
the little boy burst out the door and handed the fringed leather jacket to his
mother. Like quicksilver, she was all goodness and light. “Thank you,
honeybun.” She slipped it on, grabbed the horse’s reins, but then swung around
to face Payton. “Oh, by the way, I thought you said you were taking him to a
movie in Green Valley?‌”

“Our plans changed.”

“We hiked near Wolf’s Head,” Brett volunteered. “My
legs are really tired.”

Irritation flared in Bethany’s eyes. “Not another dreadful
snake hunting escapade?‌” Pouting prettily for Brett’s sake and possibly mine,
she added, “The poor baby looks depressed. Don’t tell me you forced him to
accompany you again to that maudlin…
shrine
you’ve created for Laura?‌”
She shook her head sadly. “I wish you wouldn’t include him in your personal
obsession without my permission.”

Jaw
muscles working in a struggle to maintain composure, he laid a protective hand
on his son’s shoulder. “You always have to have the last word, don’t you?‌
Just as a reminder, I don’t need your permission in regards to what Brett and I
do with our private time together. And you needn’t worry, I know exactly what
I’m doing.”

Bravo,
Payton. Good thing he appeared to be a low-octane kind of guy. I’d have decked
her.

“Oh,
yes, I forgot, you’re an expert at just about everything.”

A
wave of embarrassment rolled through me. I could understand the petty
motivation for putting her ex-husband down in front of Brett, but why did the
perfect-looking creature feel compelled to air their private differences in
front of a complete stranger?‌

Refusing
to respond to her scorn, Payton’s lips stretched into a tight smile. “You
mustn’t keep your adoring fans waiting, my dear.”

“Have
him home by six sharp,” she said, carefully placing the western hat over her
curls. “You know how disappointed Grampy Boo is if he’s not in his usual place
for dinner.” She turned away, but not before I heard her mutter under her
breath, “What a loser.” Having won the confrontation, at least in her mind,
Bethany grabbed the reins, nodded to me, then blew a kiss to Brett before
swinging into the saddle. “Goodbye, Jack,” she said, training a malicious
glance in Payton’s direction before cantering to the head of the waiting line
of riders where she was joined by a rugged-looking young cowhand who all but
devoured her with his eyes. Damn, she did sit a horse well.

When
I turned back, a little zing of surprise shot through me. While Brett’s eyes
were aglow with admiration for his beautiful mother, the rapt expression in
Payton’s gaze reflected a poignant combination of pain, resentment and a trace
of reluctant awe. Oh, no. Was he still carrying a torch for her?‌

“Why does Mommy call you Jack sometimes?‌” Brett asked
with a puzzled frown, watching his mother ride off down the driveway chatting
gaily with the dudes perched awkwardly on their mounts, holding tight to the
saddle pommels.

His
sheepish expression made me wonder too, but he dismissed her remark with, “It’s
just one of her little jokes. Now, how about we take Kendall over to Uncle
Dean’s place to see how the kitten is doing?‌”

“Can
I take Rascal with us to play with her?‌”

“Mmmm,
maybe we should wait awhile before we do that. The kitty might not be quite
well enough to appreciate a sixty pound Lab just yet,” he added for my
benefit. “And to keep everybody happy, run in and tell your grandma we’ll be
back by dinnertime.”

The
boy dutifully skipped up the stairs again and Payton motioned for me to come
with him. “Sorry about that,” he said as I fell into step beside him. “I hope
you didn’t get the wrong impression of Bethany. Sometimes she tries to
overcompensate for her innate feelings of insecurity.”

I
shot him an incredulous glance. She appeared far from insecure to me, and the
phrase, ‘Well, she’s not exactly Miss Congeniality’ jumped to mind, but I bit
it back. “Not at all. Actually, I think she’s one of the more charming people
I’ve ever met.”

His
appreciative laugh filled the air. “She can be…as long as you treat her as
though she’s the center of the universe.”

Not
having the slightest idea what he was talking about and since I barely knew
him, I opted not to comment. When he opened the passenger door of his truck, I
halted in surprise. “I thought we were going to see the kitten.”

“We
are. Dean’s place is about three miles from here.”

“Oh.
Listen, I’m really sorry to put you out for a second time in one day.”

He
waved away my apology. “No problem. Lucky for me, he was still here at the
house when I came to pick up Brett this morning, so this will actually be my
first visit there in quite some time.”

I
climbed into the truck. “Well, whatever. I definitely owe you one. How about I
buy you dinner to make up for ruining your breakfast this morning?‌” The
mention of food made me realize I’d never had lunch.

He
smiled. “I’m tied up tonight, but thanks anyway.”

“Breakfast
tomorrow?‌”

“You
don’t owe me anything.”

“The
heck I don’t. Listen, if you hadn’t been available at that exact moment…well,
you saved the day.”

“In
some cases, timing is everything. I’m glad I was there to help,” he replied,
shutting my door. “I happen to believe that animals are the true innocents of
the world. In exchange for being cared for they offer us loyalty and
unconditional love.” He followed that with a wry, “And they certainly don’t
screw you over the way people do.”

I
sensed he was referring to his current ‘out-of-favor’ situation with his
ex-wife and probably the entire Beaumont clan. Having recently been down the
rocky road of divorce, I could sympathize with his situation. I knew what it
was like to be drawn into the bosom of a large family, loved, pampered, and
then thrown out in the cold when the marriage fizzled. It was a rude awakening
to realize that, in all but a few exceptional cases, acceptance bequeathed to
the new spouse didn’t extend much beyond the divorce decree. Payton Kleinwort
appeared to be a compassionate soul and it made me wonder again how he’d ever
gotten matched up with a vixen like Bethany Beaumont. “I’m not letting you off
the hook so easily,” I put in. “How about lunch tomorrow?‌ Right now, my plans
are to head home in the afternoon, so I could meet you at the café there in
Arivaca on my way out of town. What do you say?‌”

His
eyes glittered with amusement. “You’re very persistent.”

“Yes,
I am.”

He
threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. Lunch it is, but it’s going to
have to be early. Will eleven-thirty work?‌”

“Sounds
perfect.”

He
nodded, I nodded, and sudden silence fell between us. To fill the conversation
void until Brett’s return, I asked, “So tell me, how big is this place
anyway?‌”

“In
the neighborhood of fifty sections, which translates to about thirty thousand
acres.”

My
mouth dropped. “Wow.” I’d thought Tally’s ranch was big, but the Sundog
dwarfed the Starfire. Reaching for the seatbelt, I remarked, “The cost of
running an outfit this size must be phenomenal.”

He
dipped his head in the direction of the riders trailing over a rise. “That’s
the operative word. It’s been touch-and-go the last few years for a lot of the
ranchers in this area and not many have survived. It was Twyla’s idea to
convert it into a place where tourists and other folks could come to enjoy
the…ranch experience,” he said, crooking his fingers like quotation marks
around the last two words. “What with the high cost of feed, the drought,
cattle prices being stagnant, then figuring in the taxes, well, it’s not been
good. Not good at all.”

“You
sound very knowledgeable. Do you have a ranch around here too?‌”

An
imperceptible shadow crossed behind his eyes before he blinked it away. “A
long time ago in another life,” he replied, abruptly moving away from my window
towards the driver’s side. I longed to know the reason for his curious
reaction, but his taciturn expression discouraged any further discussion of a
subject that was apparently off limits.

At
that moment Brett returned. Chattering happily, he scrambled onto the seat,
squeezed between us, and busied himself with a hand-held video game as Payton
maneuvered the truck out the driveway and turned south. The sandy ribbon of
road wound its way through treeless hills blanketed with tall grass undulating
like golden waves in the erratic wind. Each time we’d dip down into a wash,
Brett would whoop with laughter. “That tickles! Go faster, Daddy!”

Payton
arched a brow for permission and when I smiled he accelerated until my stomach
soared and dipped as if we were on a roller coaster ride. All at once, he hit
the brakes to avoid a jackrabbit and a loud thump from behind made me turn and
peer through the back window into the camper shell. A red and white plastic
cooler had launched forward striking the plastic window. There were several
more stacked behind it. “You guys must have had
some
picnic,” I remarked
with a laugh, thumbing over my shoulder.

Payton
glanced at me. “What?‌”

“Picnic.
It looks like you have at least a half a dozen coolers back there.”

Squealing
with laughter, Brett pulled his attention from the beeping game in his lap.
“Those aren’t for food. That’s how Daddy keeps his snakes cold.”

“Oh,
boy. I’m almost afraid to ask why anyone would want to keep snakes cold, but I
must.”

Payton
chuckled. “It’s nothing too mysterious. I collect rattlesnakes and sell them
to a couple of labs in the Midwest that process snake venom for hospitals.”

“No
kidding?‌ And you can make a living?‌”

“Not
really. It’s just a part-time thing to help make some extra money when I’m
down here to see my favorite little guy,” he said, casting Brett a look of
affection as he smoothed a lock of rust-colored hair back from the boy’s
forehead.

I
glanced down at the contented little boy snuggled against his father’s side,
taking note of his well-polished boots and clean, crisp clothing that smelled
of fabric softener. I couldn’t help but think of the contrast to poor little
Javier cringing in his dark hideaway, homeless, motherless, and clutching a toy
bunny for comfort.

“So
you don’t live here full time?‌” I asked Payton.

“No.
I teach and work in the herpetology lab at the university in Tucson.”

Brett
chimed in, “Sometimes Daddy catches turtles and Gila Monsters and tarantulas
too!”

A
tremor of revulsion ricocheted through me. “Ugh. I can do without the
tarantulas, but I thought it was against the law to capture Gila Monsters.
Aren’t they considered a protected species?‌”

“Yes.
But, my job allows me to obtain a Wildlife Holding Permit.”

Only
half listening, my attention was fixed on an irregular jumble of wind-carved
pinnacles that looked like giant volcanic chimneys. They dominated the
southwestern horizon and I was pretty sure they were the same ones I’d noticed
yesterday while traveling along the road to Sasabe. Pointing, I asked, “What’s
that odd-looking mountain range called?‌ Is it in Mexico?‌”