Perfect Family (36 page)

The best-laid plans
. And now as he looked into her face, he saw a mixture of emotions, ranging from a quick blush to suspicion.

“Jess,” he said, “I was just at the hospital, but you'd already left.”

The rose in her cheeks deepened. “Alex picked me up.”

“I didn't know what happened until noon today. Sarah didn't tell me last night and I left early this morning to take a horse down to Phoenix. Dan'l said a box struck you?” He didn't have to ask what she was doing in the attic.

“Or something,” she said with just a small edge to her voice.

He didn't miss the edge to her voice. And he didn't like the way she'd phrased her answer. But neither did he wish to ask questions with others in the room. Then he saw the papers in her hand.
Clutched
in her hand.

Ross knew what they were. The key to the Sunset, to Sarah's life, to his future. To Jessica's safety.

And the look in her eyes made him feel as if he had just been sucker-punched. “I had better get back to work. I just wanted to know if you were all right.”

She nodded, her hazel eyes appearing a little moist. Damn, but he wanted to take her in his arms. Instead, he went over to Sarah. Her face softened, some of the tension fading. He reached out and touched her shoulder, then forced himself not to look at Jessie again. He turned and retraced his steps out the door and to the barn. He wished he had something to strike, words strong enough to dislodge the lump in his throat.

Instead he turned his thoughts to the horses. He needed to work with one of the young colts. The price he'd received—the
ranch
had received—for a green broke three-year-old had been just what he needed to show everyone they could make a good profit. He'd hated to let the colt go, but Ross knew he had to produce some revenue. Now he had others coming up, a reputation to sustain.

He went back to his house to let Timber out. Unlike Jessie's Ben, Timber greeted his master with dignity. Ross found himself missing the spontaneous joy of Jessie's Ben. But then she herself had a spontaneity. She also had fire under that quiet reserve, a glow that often transformed her face.

But there had been no glow today. Had the “accident” been no accident at all? And if not, who might have caused it? He remembered the suspicion in her eyes, the fact that she'd not asked for him last night. Surely she couldn't believe he might harm her.

The thought was like a knife wound to his soul. She certainly had no reason to trust him, not even after last night. He had kept things from her, and she sensed it. He felt as if he were walking a tightrope, and the slightest misstep would destroy Sarah. Unfortunately, Sarah didn't seem to be as aware of the dangers as he was.

He went into the barn, saddled a colt named Black Jack, and led him out. He would spend the rest of the day working him, then go to the cantina. He wished he could get drunk, but he didn't drive when he'd been drinking. One beer, yes. Two, maybe; three, no.

He tried not to look at the ranch house as he put the horse through the paces, talking, always talking. He took him out into the pasture where he kept several head of cattle just for this reason, to teach the horse the maneuvers necessary for a cutting horse. Much of it was instinct, and Black Jack was a natural with plenty of heart. That meant more than stamina or speed.

Heart
. It was something he always felt lacking in himself. Perhaps because he'd walled himself off. He'd been afraid to trust, afraid to feel. He had damned little to offer anyone.

Don't think about it.

Work
.

Don't think about a young woman who was probably afraid, hurt, and bewildered.

She has Alex
.

Why did that notion hurt so much?

Jessie watched him from a window. She'd pleaded exhaustion and retired to her room, Ben in tow.

Her head still hurt. She thought about taking one of the pills Alex had bought, but then opted for a couple of aspirins instead. She didn't want her judgment clouded any more than it already was.

A knock on the door. She went and opened it. Sarah stood there with a tray loaded with hot chocolate and hot cinnamon bread.

Sarah smiled. “I always like hot chocolate and cinnamon bread when I don't feel well.”

No one had ever brought Jessie hot chocolate, much less cinnamon bread. “Sit with me for a few moments,” she said.

Sarah's smile widened as she put the tray down on a table. She suddenly looked younger, and yet there was a bluish tinge to her skin. Jessie knew that Alex had not been lying or exaggerating. Sarah
was
ill. Spontaneously, Jessie reached out her hand and touched her aunt's.

A family
. Perhaps for the first time, it became real. Despite last night, a sense of belonging flowed into her. No one had asked her how she would vote when she'd returned from the hospital. They'd just embraced her, hurting for her.

That's what families did. Didn't they?

“Eat while it's hot, Jessie,” Sarah said, and Jessie obeyed. She
was
hungry. Starved. She sipped the chocolate, then nibbled on the toast. It was wonderful. It was the ultimate comfort food, loaded with fat and calories and other things that were supposed to be bad. But it was nectar. She started to relax. The ache in the back of her head seemed to fade away.

“I hope … the accident won't make you decide to leave,” Sarah said after a moment.

“I don't plan to go anywhere. Not yet.”

“Good for you. You're a true Clements.”

A true Clements
. Jessie wasn't sure at this moment whether that was good or bad. But she knew it was meant as a compliment, and so she decided to take it that way. “Tell me more about my father.”

Sarah smiled. “Harding was a year younger than me. Being the youngest, we looked out for each other. He was a hellion, though, just like most boys around here. They grow up around guns and horses and are raised to believe the world revolves around them.”

The remainder of the cinnamon toast lay uneaten. Sarah had an expression on her face that told Jessie she had gone back fifty years and was seeing exactly what she was telling. “He didn't like school and wasn't good at it, mainly because his interests were elsewhere and he saw no need for ‘book learning.' He loved the land, the hills. He would camp out for days and explore the cliffs and cave dwellings used by the Indians. He knew more about this land than any of us, probably loved it more. And when his brothers left the ranch and he knew it would be his, he settled down and learned all he needed to run the ranch.”

Jessie felt her eyes water, but then it seemed they'd been doing a lot of that in the past couple of days. How little she'd known her father. How much had he given up to keep her? He could have handed her over to the state, or left her in a church, but he had dragged her from position to position, probably losing some because he'd had a child tagging along. What had happened to that boy who had loved the desert and the stars? The boy who had apparently so loved his family. Was that why he'd kept her when it would have been so much easier to give her up? Because he'd never quite lost that deep, abiding respect for family, for belonging.

“I would like to see those caves,” she said.

“Then you will,” Sarah said. “Ross knows them all, too.”

“I don't think …”

“Or I can,” Sarah said. “I have a few more rides in me.”

Then Sarah must have seen something in Jessie's eyes because she continued, “The day I stop riding is the day I'll lie down and die,” Sarah said. “I have no intention of sitting in a rocking chair, knitting. My greatest happiness would be showing you more of this country. I think your father would expect it of me.” Sarah stood then. “Listen to me prattling along like an old woman while your food gets cold and you need rest. Now don't you feel you have to come to supper.”

She stooped to pet Ben. “You take good care of her,” she ordered the dog who waved his tale in frantic consent.

“Sarah,” Jessie asked, stopping her.

“Yes?”

“I overheard Alex and Marc talking about a letter Heath might have left. Can I see it?”

Sarah's face clouded again. “Is that what you were doing in the attic?”

“Yes. I didn't think there would be anything wrong …”

“Of course there isn't,” Sarah said. “I told you this house is as much yours as mine now. I'll see if I can find it.”

But Sarah's eyes avoided hers, and Jessie wondered whether the letter would ever surface.

Then Sarah was gone, leaving the fragrance of lavender in the room.

Jessie slept for a while. When she woke, she still felt as if her mind was fogged. She wanted a cup of coffee, or something else to clear it, but she wasn't ready to see anyone yet. Instead, she took out the sheaf of papers Alex had given her and tried to read the small print. There was a copy of the original will, her DNA test results, an affidavit that she would have to sign declaring that she was who she was. Then there was a copy of the offer for the ranch. It was for an astronomical amount of money.

Money that wouldn't be needed by anyone if the bearer bonds were found and divided. Finding those bonds would reduce the pressure for selling the ranch.

Her head pounded harder.

So did her heart.

Regardless of whom a sale would benefit or destroy, she felt to her bones that selling this land, subdividing it into little parcels of look-alike houses, would be a tragedy.
He loved the land
. Jessie realized her father would never have wanted this land sold, sacrificed. He'd always been true to her, in his own way. He'd kept her. Now she had to keep the land intact for him. It was the least she could do.

And then she would return home, look again at the primer, and see whether or not there really were clues to a fortune in bearer bonds.

She felt better now that she had determined in her own mind exactly what she wanted to do. And the sooner now that she told everyone she would not approve the sale, then the sooner everyone could go about their business. She felt wary enough, though, not to mention the book yet, not until she determined whether there was really something to it.

Jessie knew enough about bearer bonds to understand that whoever had possession could cash them in. She wasn't entirely sure that whoever was searching for the bonds planned to share.

Ben crowded next to her, and she gave him a hug. “Are you ready to go home?” she asked.

Ben's tail wagged eagerly.

“I know,” she said. “Home is good.” But there were still things she had to know. She wondered if last night had been more of a warning than a real intention to hurt her.

She looked at the clock, then the late afternoon sun filtering through the window. No one had knocked, apparently deciding to let her sleep, but now she was hungry. She went to the window. No Ross. But there were several cars in front. More of the family was back, and it was probably the best thing to tell them all her decision. Then maybe they wouldn't be so eager to claim her.

Pleased that she'd made a decision, she quickly changed into slacks and a knit shirt and regarded herself critically in the mirror.

Her eyes looked sleepy, a little bloodshot. Her hair around the stitches seemed to stand straight up. She had no idea what to do about that. Spray wouldn't be wise. Then she decided it didn't matter. She applied a little lipstick, then a touch of powder to give her some color.

“You can come,” she told Ben, who undoubtedly needed a trip outside. He followed happily as she descended the stairs. The room was full. Marc and Samantha were both there. So was Halden, the eldest Clements, in his usual easy chair. Cullen with his wife, Sondra. Elizabeth. And Sarah.

But Cullen's sons weren't there.

Nor was Alex.

Or Ross.

His hand wrapped around a highball glass, Cullen rose and came over to her. “I'm not going to ask you how you are because I'm sure you're tired of the question. But you certainly look fine. I want you to know we were all very worried about you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I hope you haven't been waiting for me.”

He put his hand on hers. “Elizabeth decided to stay over another day to make sure you were all right.”

Jessie felt a small glow. She tried not to, but it was there all the same. She remembered what Ross had told her about Elizabeth, that she'd lost her fiancé. There were few people she'd connected with as easily as she had with her new cousin. She wondered how Elizabeth would feel about her decision.

Best not to wait, she thought. “I've made a decision,” she said. Everyone looked at her. Sarah had gone absolutely still. She suddenly felt as if she were in a tableau, in which everyone was frozen in place. She hadn't needed to elaborate.

“I don't think my father would have wanted me to vote to sell,” she said.

The tableau didn't move for a moment.

Then Marc rose. “Don't you think you should think about it a little longer?”

Sarah didn't say anything, but a smile lit her face.

Cullen moved closer. “I hope you haven't ruled it out altogether. It's a great deal of money, and the buyer might even offer more.”

Then Elizabeth came over to her and put an arm around her. “Don't bully her,” she said.

“Have you told Alex yet?” Marc asked.

She shook her head. “I thought I should tell you first.”

Samantha's face was tight-lipped. Sondra frowned, anger flashing in her eyes.

“A lot has happened in the past few days,” Marc said soothingly. “It might be wise if you didn't make a decision so quickly.”

“It's not quick,” she said. “I've had time to think about it. I just don't think this land should be sold.”

“You don't even know this land,” Sondra said, a tight look spoiling the lovely face. “It's not fair to the rest of us.”