The Serpent's Bite (21 page)

“I was waiting for a chance when we were alone. He's got booze stashed away,” Scott said. “Buried.” He recounted what he had seen Tomas dig up the night before.

“Buried?” Temple was aghast.

“Maybe in case the rangers visit,” Scott added. “Or because of the weight. He's probably got booze buried everywhere. Clever bastard. And his Mexican sidekick is his willing accomplice.”

“Do you think we can blow his license?” Courtney asked.

“Let's not blow anything,” Temple snapped. “Let's just try to keep things calm. At this stage, he's functioning and apparently doing his job. No sense stirring the pot. Besides, things seem to be going well and—let's face it—we can't blame Harry for our missteps. Let's just pay more attention to his warnings.”

He was worried, but he didn't want them to see it and add to their own anxiety. They grew silent, watching Harry as he led the horses back to the trail.

“I agree, Dad,” Courtney said. “No point in getting him all riled up.”

Harry came closer. He looked much calmer, less tense. Temple speculated he had had a few nips. As he came forward, the familiar aura of booze was unmistakable.

“Hey, Harry,” Courtney said. “Forgive me. I went bananas. I guess the whole episode pissed me off. My fault entirely, I didn't use my head. Bygones, okay?”

Harry nodded, appearing as eager as the others for the apology.

“I forgot it happened,” he said, forcing a smile. “Now let's mount up. And hold on to the reins.”

They went through the process and all were up on their horses, except their father, who had to be led to a fallen tree to give him the height he needed to mount.

Harry changed the order of the riders, putting Courtney directly behind him and Scott and in front of Temple.

“As old Duke Wayne would put it,” Harry said, lifting his arm with a flourish, “move ‘em out.”

Trouble averted for the moment, Temple thought, trying without success to erase any anxiety from his mind.

D
uring lunch, Courtney and Scott listened to their father recall memories from their earlier trip. They sat in the shade of a cottonwood tree, munching canned tuna fish sandwiches and candy bars, washing them down with water. Harry had disappeared with his usual explanation to “see about the horses,” which were tied to trees out of sight. By now they knew he would be “out of sight” for hours, sipping on his booze.

“Off to the gin mill in the wilderness,” Courtney said. “Guy needs twelve steps.”

“Sorry about this, kids,” Temple said.

“Not your fault, Dad,” Scott said.

They watched white, scudding, cottony clouds throw their reflection on the mirrored lake. The light breeze rustling the leaves and branches of the embracing wilderness sounded like soft background music. By then, Courtney was fully recovered from her anger and managed to put it aside and observe the spectacular natural surroundings. Despite all the angst and emotion that punctuated her life, she felt herself begin to relax and soak up the wonders of this unspoiled scene.

Her father had been right about one thing. To disengage from the terrible reality of everyday life with all its frustrations and thwarted dreams and to immerse oneself in the embracing majesty of nature did, indeed, have a positive affect on one's attitude. She found herself enjoying her father's anecdotes of their early family experiences. His enthusiastic recounting and
astonishing memory of their early days emphasized how much he enjoyed and cherished those past moments.

It surprised her to note that she had deliberately locked away her most pleasant memories, as if focusing on them would render her too nostalgic and sentimental for the task ahead. Stay focused, she urged herself.

“You were two of the cutest kids on the planet,” their father told them as they sat on a flat stone outcrop eating their lunch. “Do you remember when you were little and frightened by nightmares or some imaginary enemy, how you would crawl into bed with your mother and me?” He turned to Scott. “Both of you did that, sometimes at the same time. It could go on for weeks. At times, the four of us would share one king-size bed. Tell you the truth, kids, we both loved it, your mother and me. You were everything to us. Everything.”

He grew silent again, undoubtedly savoring the old memories. When he spoke, it was to recall yet another memory of their childhood. Listening, Courtney found herself reflecting on what others might call a gap in her life, the lack of progeny. Was it really a gap? Children would inhibit the pursuit of her dream. For her father, their childhood had been the highlight of his life. Good, she thought, let him revel in the memories, prime himself.

“And when you got sick,” Temple continued, “with the flu or measles or chicken pox—you had them all, both of you—your mother and I would go crazy with worry and sit by your bedside all night until you were out of danger. We were both worrywarts when it came to you guys. And you, Scott, you scared the daylights out of us. Remember how you fell and sliced
your head just above the eye, and your mother and I rushed you to the emergency ward of Columbia Presbyterian? Hell, we thought you'd lost an eye.”

She watched as her father searched Scott's face for any sign of a scar. It had faded but was still visible, and he touched it with his finger.

“Living memories,” he said, shaking his head. “Powerful stuff.”

She hadn't realized how overly sentimental he had become and was unable to reconcile it with his cutting off financial help. Okay, Daddy, she thought, cheering him on. He was moving in the right direction. A profound change was taking place. He was definitely softening.

Finishing their lunch, her father took out his digital camera and shot more pictures of both her and her brother and the landscape. She felt a sudden wave of resentment grip her when it crossed her mind that the pictures would also be shown to Muriel the Wise, as she began to characterize her in her mind.

Later, after Courtney and Scott had left their father to nap under a tree and had begun a hike along the lakeshore, they reflected on what appeared to be his changing attitude.

“He wants to do the right thing, Scottie,” she told him. “He is in thaw mode.”

“Would be nice,” Scott muttered. “He sure as hell got a bang out of bringing us up.”

“Let's hope the memories work their magic.” She paused and grew reflective. “Of course, we need him to come across now. But looking ahead worries me. Muriel won't be idle. She's sure to cut into our take when the old man checks out.”

“Seems a crude way to put it.”

“Never mind crude. I'm talking logic. She'll water us down. That's a given.”

“Jesus, I hate this subject,” Scott said.

“You may hate it, Scottie, but the implications are pretty clear.”

“So what? So we're watered down. Who cares?”

“I care,” she snickered. “Maybe we can get him to gift us for heavy bread now. Why wait until D-day? It's the perfect opportunity.”

“Here we go again,” Scott sighed.

“I'm serious. You heard him rave on about us little kiddies. It's as good a time as we'll ever have to…get us out of the Muriel loop.”

“What do you suggest?”

She thought for a long moment.

“Maybe gift us now. Let the shysters figure out a way. Don't tell me you'd object, big brother. It would buy him a lot of conscience, get rid of any residual guilt.” She laughed. “One way to get at it. I'd settle at this stage for a generous continuing stipend. And you, brother dear, a nice big investment in your deals.”

“God, Courtney. Is that all you think about?”

“Not all,” she winked.

“Be nice thought. He gets back, makes the changes, and can move ahead to wedded bliss with a clear conscience.”

She shook her head. Another thought had popped into her mind.

“What the fuck does he want to marry her for? You don't have to do that today. He's nuts! Nobody gets married until it's absolutely necessary,” she said, giggling. “Look at us.”

“You know him. Wants to do the right thing. Man is probably in love.”

“Ain't love grand?” Courtney sighed, with obvious sarcasm.

Scott grew thoughtful. His complexion seemed to have paled. “But it does change the landscape.” He spat on the ground. “Love! When it strikes, you lose control.” He resisted meeting her gaze.

Not
that
again, she thought. It was a condition she acknowledged she had never really experienced.

“Ring around the finger. That's her game. Love shmove. Prenup or not, marriage is a binder. He has her down as the wisest lady in the land. And she gets all the brownie points for her marvelous advice. How sweet and noble! How thoughtful! Bringing the family together again.” She felt a wave of antagonism washing over her. “Believe me, I know her strategy. A woman knows. She thinks she's found a patsy. I don't trust her. I don't trust her one bit.”

“You don't even know her, Courtney.”

“Believe me. I know her. I know the type.”

They had stopped walking and moved to a spot with an extraordinary view of the lake and mountains beyond. The sun hung high in the sky, and the temperature was comfortably warm. Her mind still swarmed with ideas regarding her financial future.

“What we've got to do, Scottie, is stop hinting and start laying it on the line, talking in practical terms. He's a shrewd negotiator as well as a father. What we want is a real commitment. Get close and personal. Have it out.”

“What's does that mean?”

“Before he gets in deeper with Muriel, let's try to hammer out a solution for us. Hell, we're the first family. There's a certain entitlement in being, well, being first in line. We've got to protect our turf.”

“I hate talking about this, Courtney. It's so…so calculating. Can't we change the subject?”

She snickered, then moved away from him into the tree line beyond the shore, and stretched out on a patch of grass, putting her hands behind her head.

“Feels good,” she said, smiling, watching him, knowing her pose was seductive. He got the message and chuckled.

“Why not?” she purred, swinging her hips from side to side.

“It's trouble,” he sighed.

“Just fun, Scottie. Why not?”

“It's hard to live with, Courtney.”

“Not for me, Scottie. Hell, take a peek at the Internet for chrissake. It's a fucking orgy. Brothers and sisters. That's only the tiny part of it. You'll see mothers and sons, mothers and daughters, fathers and daughters, fathers and sons, girls and boys with sheep and dogs, fucking horses and mules, pissing, fisting, every fucking so-called aberration on the planet. And that's just the Internet. It's mainstream, buddy boy. Just don't be so self-righteous and scared, brother mine. If it feels good, do it. So come on in and stop this guilt trip. It'll drive you crazy. It
has
been driving you crazy.”

“It's still wrong.”

“Screw wrong. Who says?” She started to open her blouse. “Besides, I can't help it, Scottie. Nobody ever made me horny like you. No one. Not ever.”

She felt him watching her as she took off her blouse and began to open her jeans. “Come on in, baby, the water's fine.”

“You're impossible,” Scott sighed, but he did not move away. She reached out, and he stepped away, but she saw his reactive bulge.

“Come on. I know you want it.”

“I guess I'm like Pavlov's dog. Always have been.” He cleared his throat. “With you.”

“Good. Let's put that bullshit away. I'm your addiction, Scottie,” she said, pulling off her jeans. “And you're mine.”

“Wrong, you're my substance abuse.”

“I like that, baby. So abuse me.”

She rolled down her panties, kicked them off, and spread her legs.

“See what I got for you, Scottie.”

He could not take his eyes off her. She remembered the look, the hunger, and lust. Her reaction was the same. She was being shameless and loved it. Besides, she was testing herself, proving her ability to control him. The sex had always been her most powerful persuader. She waved him forward.

“Come on, Scottie. Fuck your big sister.”

He moved a few steps closer.

“It was always best with you, Scottie,” she said, reaching out and caressing his erection.

“We're playing with fire,” he shrugged. She struggled with his jeans, and soon he was exposed.

“Yum, yum,” she whispered, moving closer, beginning to fellate him.

“I always loved to do this,” she whispered, stopping abruptly. Then she pulled him down and into her.

“Jesus, Scottie,” she cried out, unable to stop the sudden deep orgasm. “Oh God.” She felt the trembling pleasure run through her. Then she felt his spasm and heard his gasp.

“As good as it gets, Scottie.”