Denim & Diamonds (14 page)

local Chevrolet dealership smiled, but appeared to be attempting to escape the conversation. Lana steered him through the crowd.

From her vantage point, Beth had a clear view of Beau, and his anger was palpable as he watched his aunt move through the crowd with Jack. Beau whipped off his apron, threw the chef’s hat on the table, and stalked through the crowd, intercepting his aunt and Jack at the edge of the patio. He looked angry, she looked wide-eyed and innocent, and Jack sidled away, looking relieved.

Beth hadn’t been able to put her finger on it, but something about him had been different since his aunt had shown up. He insisted that she could only stay a short time, but Lana seemed to have no intention of leaving.

Beth had happened upon them several times and had the distinct impression that she had interrupted something. One of the really odd things was that Shep, normally relaxed and friendly, was on edge around the flamboyant Lana. At first, Beth had attributed it to the fact that she was a stranger. But Shep still growled whenever she approached.

Beth felt a nudge against her right leg and looked down to find Shep, his black and white tail swishing from side to side. He gave a muffled woof, and she bent down to pet his silky fur.
  

“Come on, Shep, let’s go get your master.” she sighed and headed through the crowd, aiming for Beau. She found him, holding onto Lana’s arm and speaking to her through thinned lips.

“You promised!” he hissed.

As usual, the older woman was grinning widely, her eyes wide and innocent. “Why, Beau, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He hissed, “You know damn good and well what I’m talking about. You show up and animals start disappearing.”

“You didn’t have a problem with it before.”

Beau’s chin jutted forward, and his muscles were knotted under his shirt. Both fists were clenched and he looked as if it was all he could do to keep from taking a swing at the older woman. Beth hurried forward, anxious to stop the argument from escalating before things got out of hand.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Beth said as she touched him on the shoulder. Doubt and suspicion surged through her. Was the ranch at risk with Lana staying there?

He spun around to face her, twin lines furrowing his brow, eyes squinted, “What?”

“If everything’s okay, we should really pay attention to our guests.” Beth suggested. Shep whined at her side, sensitive to the tension in the air.

Beau pointed a finger at Lana and said, “You, don’t do anything – and you know
exactly
what I’m talking about.” He sighed as he fell into step beside Beth. They walked toward the crowd, but he looked over his shoulder twice.  

Beth glanced at him. She wanted to ask him about what she’d heard, but was afraid of his answer. They made their way through the crowd, stopping to chat a couple of times. The feeling between them was mutual respect, a kind of familiarity that made her feel warm and fuzzy, but she wanted more. The memory of being in his arms, feeling his lips on hers . . . she wanted more, dang it!

She wanted him to look at her as a woman. But all he had on his mind these days was his aunt.

A short cowboy with bowed legs stopped Beau and said, “Thanks, man, for inviting me up. I appreciate the chance to get one of your horses.”

Beau took the man’s hand in his own and clasped it between his, pumping enthusiastically, “Gabe! Can’t believe you came up all the way from Oklahoma!”

“Oh, sure, there were several of us that caravanned up.” He tipped his hat at Beth, “And you must be Kate.”

Beth's eyes opened wide as she gave him a tight smile as she turned to look at Beau. His cheeks burned and he said, “No, this is Beth Jameson. Her daddy was John Jameson. She’s the new owner of the Diamond J Ranch.”

“Sorry about that,” he said to Beth, then he leaned close to Beau and said in a loud whisper, “Boy, you need to drop that Kate chick and loop your rope over this’un! She’s a beaut!”

Beau shifted his weight from one foot to the other and ducked his head, but Beth could see the red inching up his neck.

Kate? Surely not the Katie she knew . . .

A couple of the men joined them just as Gabe left to check out the stock. One asked about the cattle thefts in the area, which irritated Beau all over again. He snapped at one of them. “Cattle rustling has always been a problem. Happens all over the country, all the time.”

The memory of Bert’s steer made her stomach clench. She glanced sideways at Beau and said, “I worry about it, too.”

Beau raised his chin and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure our stock is safe.”

They excused themselves from the cowboys and Beau said, "I need to get back to the grill."

As they walked towards the patio, he seemed distracted, and his attention wasn’t on their guests. Beth was at her most charming, determined to make a good impression in spite of Beau’s inattention. What was going on with him? There was something about him, something dark, that scared her sometimes.

Lana was bad news, but was Beau?

They met up with Charlotte and he left Beth with her while he returned to his duties at the grill. Beth watched him as he climbed the steps to the deck, smiling and laughing, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. She looked around at the rodeo cowboys that she had worked so hard to get to the ranch, thought about all her father had worked for, how hard he had worked to build up the reputation of Diamond J Ranch.

She hoped Beau was right and would be able to keep their stock safe.

“You must be Beth Jameson?” Beth turned to find an attractive, older man smiling down at her. “I’m Johnson VanHolden. But my friends call me Van.”

The name rang a bell. She cocked her head to one side and asked, “Sheriff VanHolden?”

“At your service. But don’t hold that against me, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his white felt hat and smiled as he tipped his head down. He gestured towards the round pen, “It looks like the show is getting ready to start. Shall we?”

She nodded, wondering if he had any leads on the rustlers. He seemed too nice to be a match for serious criminals.

“I see you’ve met the new boss lady, Van.” She turned to see Beau coming through the crowd towards them. He handed Van a beer and asked, “Is she going to show you around?”

“We were going to go watch the cutting horse demonstration over in the round pen. Want to join us?” Van answered.

“Sure, I’ll walk over with you two.” Beau took Beth by the elbow and stepped between her and the Sheriff as they walked.

The three took their seats on the straw bales that had been set up around the pen as makeshift bleachers. Beau squeezed her shoulder as she sat down. Just then, Joe hollered for Beau from the chutes. Beau gave her a long look, then excused himself and walked towards the chute.

“Is everything all right, Ms. Jameson?” Van asked.

“Oh, yes. So many things to keep track of today,” Beth answered, and laughed. She ran her hands through her hair and tucked the stray strands back into the loose ponytail. “We’re anxious to make sure everything goes well.”

“I suppose a lot is riding on today, no pun intended.” Van looked at Beth and smiled sadly. “You know, you have your father’s eyes.”

Beth tilted her head and looked up at the Sheriff. “Were you and my father friends?”

“I was proud to call your father my friend. Please accept my condolences. I know they’re late, but I’ve been tied up with some police business for the past few months.”

“I understand,” Beth said, nodding.

“I wish I could have gone to the funeral, but I wasn’t able to get away. Then I felt funny about showing up here and giving you my condolences when I’d never met you before.” Van focused on the gray horse that was cutting a calf out of the small herd in the pen. He cleared his throat, “Rumor has it that your father gave you this place with some stipulations. Honestly, I was surprised he didn’t leave the place to Charlotte.”

Beth frowned and turned to look at the Sheriff, shading her eyes with her hand. “Really?
Charlotte? Why would he leave the ranch to his housekeeper?”

Van coughed, looked at her for a moment and said, “You don’t know about your father and Charlotte?”

She raised her eyebrows, as what he implied sank in. “Know what about them?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything. It really should be up to
Charlotte to tell you. It’s for her to say, not me.” Van shook his head. “I really should learn to keep my big mouth shut.”

“No. no, I’m glad you said something,” she said, as the gray horse dodged from side to side, throwing up little dust devils. “I just feel stupid that I didn’t know.
Charlotte must think I’m dense.”

“I’m sorry,” Van patted her thigh. “I thought you knew.”

“Unfortunately, there’s a lot about my father I didn’t know. I guess that’s why I feel so strongly about making a go of the ranch. This is my only real connection to him. I feel close to him when I’m here.” She shrugged one shoulder.

Van nodded. “I can see why. Your father put his heart and soul into this place. I’m sure whatever happens, the ranch’ll end up in good hands.”

Beth just hoped that those hands were hers, because she didn't have any place else to go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A
fter the excitement of the big barbecue, Sunday seemed quiet in the house. The cleanup was finished by noon, and life was back to normal. Everyone else had things to do. Beau and the other ranch hands, Joe and Cole, left to check fence. Aidan worked with a gelding that was due to be picked up the next day. Charlotte went to town after groceries. She offered to take Beth, but Beth felt like she would just be in the way. And honestly, she was looking forward to a little time to just relax.  

She went into the living room and watched out the big picture window as
Charlotte drove away in her black Suburban. Beth turned and admired the house. She couldn’t recall ever actually being inside a log cabin until this one, but she liked the exposed log walls and the rough beam ceilings. It added a certain rustic feel to the place. It felt like a ranch house. The rough look continued with the hardwood floors that were covered with hand braided, multicolored rugs. Many of them looked like they were native American designs. Beth suspected the larger of the two recliners, which was a well-worn brown leather, had been her father’s. The other worn recliner was a sage green, and was where Charlotte always sat. The recliners flanked the big sectional that Beth preferred. All the seating was arranged to face the stone fireplace. Tucked in an antique-looking armoire was the only nod to anything modern, a flat screen television and Blu-ray player. Beth suspected that her father and Charlotte, and probably Beau, spent a lot of evenings sitting together in this room, watching movies, eating popcorn, and drinking hot cocoa.

Movies filled the drawers under the armoir. Beth spent a few minutes perusing the titles, trying to get a glimpse into her father’s life. She was surprised to find a wide variety of movies, everything from fairly recent classic chick-flicks like When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail (maybe her father had a thing for Meg Ryan), and older classics like Casanova and several Alfred Hitchcock movies.

She padded down the hallway and paused in the doorway to her father’s library. Charlotte had told her this was her father’s favorite room in the house. Of course, he spent a lot of time outside, too. Nothing about what little she remembered of her father seemed to fit with this room or the ranch.

She continued down the hallway and paused outside the master suite, her hand resting on the cool metal of the antique brass doorknob.
Charlotte had encouraged Beth to make herself at home, to look at her father’s bedroom. Curiosity got the best of her, and she turned the knob.

The rustic room was warm and inviting, nothing like her bedroom in her condo, which she had so painstakingly decorated in soothing shades of blue. This was natural, and comforting. The room was dominated by a king sized bed that looked as though it was made from logs. It was covered with a red flannel comforter, topped with several leather and faux fur throw pillows.

The gray tabby brushed past Beth’s legs and hopped up on the padded window seat in the bay window. The cushions were made from a cow-print that matched the overstuffed chair that filled the sitting area. The reading table next to the chair had several shelves underneath, filled with a variety of magazines and books.

An ashtray and small humidor sat on top of the table and, for a moment, Beth could almost picture her father puffing on a cigar while reading the latest issue of Western Horseman. The cat looked at Beth, then calmly began grooming himself, paying careful attention to his whiskers.

The stone fireplace contained burned logs and ashes. The oak mantle was rough-looking, topped with pictures of various sizes, all featuring Quarter horses and Border Collies. One of the photos was larger than the others, placed in the center, and featured Beth’s father and Charlotte dressed in their Western best, sitting on a matched pair of horses. It looked like it had been taken at a parade, and Beth thought she recognized the town square in Wilder.