MACDONALD TOWNSEND paced back and forth along the length of the picture window in his study. The view out that window, a panorama of wild Montana beauty that included a spectacular slice of snow-capped Irish Peak, had cost him a considerable chunk of money. He didn’t so much as glance at it that morning. He was beyond admiring scenery. He was beyond enjoying much of anything about his getaway “cabin,” two thousand square feet of pine logs and thermal-pane windows and fieldstone fireplaces. On the other side of his study door Bruno, his German shorthair, whined and scratched at the woodwork. Townsend didn’t hear it.
His life was going to hell. It was as simple as that. He paused beside the heavy antique oak desk to light a cigarette, but his hands were shaking too badly to accomplish the task and he gave it up, too wired to try again. He knew what he needed, what his nerves were screaming for. There was a stash in the upper right-hand drawer of the desk, but he fought the need, desperate to break free of it. Sweat filmed his face. His nose was running. He pulled a damp, wadded-up handkerchief out of his hip pocket and wiped it across his upper lip, resuming his pacing.
His heart was racing like a rabbit’s, something that seemed to be happening more and more often. He didn’t know if it was the cocaine or the stress or both. They seemed to feed off each other, chasing around and around in a vicious circle that was taking him closer and closer to the point of no return.
He stopped and stared out the window, seeing nothing. How had he ever come to this? He’d had the world at his fingertips. His career had been poised perfectly on the ladder that would eventually take him to the Supreme Court. He was respected and admired. He had a wife who was respected and admired. There hadn’t been so much as a speck of lint on his record.
Then he met Lucy MacAdam. He dated the start of his decline into this hell in which he was living to the night they met, as if her appearance had been a portent sent from the netherworld. As if she had been a familiar of the devil sent to destroy him by leading him down the paths of degradation.
He still remembered that first meeting as if it had happened last night. He had seen her across the room at a party in the elegant home of Ben Lucas. Her gaze hit him like a laser beam. Then that patented smile canted the corners of her mouth, wry and knowing, as if she were fully aware of her evil power over men and delighted in it. His skin had tightened from the scalp down, tingling with raw sexual awareness. At the time her hair had been nearly platinum blond, cut in a jaw-length bob that perpetually looked as if a lover had just run his hands through it. She wore a simple gold metallic knit dress that began in a snug collar around her throat and hugged her figure like a glove, ending high on her slender thighs. She wore nothing beneath it. He had discovered that fact later in the evening, when she had led him by the necktie into a little-used guest bathroom.
At the time he had been, if not a happily married man, a contented one. Irene, his wife of thirty years, had lost interest in sex. All her time and energy was taken up with her causes. He remembered thinking it was a relief. One less obligation to distract him from his career plans. He had been sliding comfortably along on the track that would take him to the superior court bench and onward.
Everything changed in a heartbeat. He was astonished, looking back on it, that he could have been so easily tempted, that temptation would take him so deep, that it all could happen so quickly.
Madness, that was what it was. It had infected him and swept through him like a cancer. First it was Lucy, then the cocaine, the parties, the forays into the world of Evan Bryce and the people who sought him out. He had been so smug at first, flattered and full of himself. He had believed he could handle it, that he could keep his newfound vices separate from his public image. But the task had grown increasingly difficult, until he felt as if he were being asked to juggle bowling balls while balancing on one foot on the head of a pin. His control had slipped bit by bit, and now his life was spiraling downward like a plane with all engines smoking. He could almost hear the wind roaring in his ears.
His need for cocaine was out of control. Between the drugs and the blackmail, his finances were eroding at an alarming rate. Irene was leaving him. God only knew what would happen when her attorney started demanding money and property that had long since gone to fund his secret life. Bryce had him under his thumb and there was a very incriminating videotape floating around that would end his career at the very least if it fell into the wrong hands.
“I have to get that tape,” he muttered.
He could scarcely hear above the thundering of his pulse in his ears. The trembling that had been contained to his hands quaked up his arms and down through his body. He felt as if he might explode. Panic choked him. On the brink of tears, he flung himself into the leather-upholstered desk chair and reached for the handle of the drawer. His fingers curled around it and tightened and tightened until his knuckles were the color of bone.
He had to stop. He had to, or the madness would never end. During the night he had promised himself he would quit. He would extend his vacation into a six-month leave of absence from the bench and clean up his act. He would go to another state, where no one would know him, and check himself into a clinic. There was a place in Minnesota he’d heard about. Top-notch, discreet. He would go there, and when he came back he would be a new man, his old self, back on the straight and narrow.
The plan brought with it a kind of euphoria, a high not unlike that he got from the drugs. For a moment he saw the future through a watery white light, like something inside a free-floating soap bubble. He would quit the drugs, get the stress under control, distance himself from the people who had dragged him down into this muck. Then the phone to his left shrilled a high, birdlike call and the bubble burst.
He grabbed the receiver, his heart rate spiking up-ward again, expecting to hear Bryce on the other end. “Townsend.”
“Judge Townsend.” The voice was unfamiliar, male, ringing with a quality of false joviality. “I was a friend of a friend of yours. Lucy MacAdam.”
Townsend said nothing. The silence vibrated against his ears. A hundred thoughts raced through his mind, none of them pleasant.
“Are you there?”
He tried to swallow the bile that rose up the back of his throat. His mouth was dry as chalk dust. “Y-yes. I’m here.”
“I happen to know you and Lucy had a little thing going. Thought maybe we could discuss it.”
The tape. Jesus, he had the tape! He thought of denying the charge, but what was the point? His nerves couldn’t take a cat-and-mouse game. Better to get it over with. “What do you want?”
“Not over the phone. I prefer to do business in person.”
“Where, then?”
“Do you like to fish, Judge?”
“What? What the hell-”
“Of course you do. You’re a rugged outdoors type, or you wouldn’t have come here. There’s a great spot I just discovered over on Little Snake. Meet me at the Mine Road turnoff on old county nine in an hour and I’ll lead the way. Know where that is?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. Oh, and, Judge? Better bring your wallet.”
He fumbled to re-cradle the receiver, his attention on the pressure that was building inside his head. Maybe he would just have an aneurism and die and that would be the end of all his troubles. The pressure pounded behind his eyes like a pair of fists.
Would this nightmare never end?
If he could get the tape back, he thought desperately. He’d pay whatever he had to. He’d sell this place to raise the money as long as he could be assured of never being bothered again. That would be best anyway. Get rid of this place. That would be part of the process of turning himself around. The situation wasn’t beyond damage control yet. He would sell this place, get himself straightened out, get Irene back before the divorce proceedings revealed his ravaged finances.
Having a plan calmed him somewhat, but he was still trembling. He pulled his handkerchief out and wiped his nose again. He had to give the appearance of being in control when he met this new blackmailer. It wouldn’t be wise to show fear.
His fingers curled into the handle of the drawer again and pulled it open. Just one more time…
Mari went into the emergency room with Will to make sure he actually got himself on the list of patients to be seen, then left him there with a promise to come back in an hour. As she drove through town, she made a pass around the square to take in the progress on the sculpture.
Colleen Bentsen was going at it with torch in hand and an iron mask over her face. The sculpture was still little more than scrap metal. A knot of New Eden housewives with babies in strollers stood frowning at the model, turning their heads sideways and back in an attempt to get a perspective that made sense. M. E. Fralick stood beside the pedestal, swinging her long arms in exaggerated gestures as she tried to explain the scope of the project.
At the Moose, tourists were trooping through the main lobby in their pseudo-western wear, heading for breakfast before a day in the great outdoors. Mari went up to her rooms and pried herself out of Lucy’s jeans. After a quick shower, she dressed in a pair of old black leggings, crew socks, and hiking boots. She pulled a T-shirt over her head with the words BO KNOWS YOUR SISTER stamped across the front in black, and completed the ensemble with a man-size denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up half a dozen times. She tried to clamp her hair back with a big silver barrette, but the mane was too much for it. The clasp gave way and launched the barrette across the room like a missile.
She went down to the dining room, scanning the faces for Drew. Kevin sat alone at a table near the kitchen door, going over paperwork while he sipped coffee. Mari wound her way to the table and pulled out the chair across from him.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to do homework at the breakfast table? You’ll ruin your posture.”
He glanced up at her and grinned. Automatically, he came halfway to his feet, even though she had already seated herself. “No, I never heard that one. The big one around my house was ‘Don’t run with a pencil in your hand-’ ”
“You’ll put your eye out,” they finished in unison.
Mari laughed. “I think my mother’s real fear was the social stigma of a daughter with an eye patch. There are so few designers who consider it an acceptable fashion accessory.”
Kevin snagged a passing waiter for coffee. “Breakfast?”
“No, thanks,” she said halfheartedly, eyeing the plump golden blueberry muffin he had yet to touch. “I had a doughnut.”
“Have some fruit at least.” He nudged a chilled bowl heaped with melon slices and fresh berries in her direction.
Mari picked out a chunk of cantaloupe with a fork and nipped off a corner.
“How are you feeling?” Kevin asked, concern tugging his brows into that worried-puppy look he wore so well.
“I’m fine.”
“We still feel terrible, you know.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I could share my pain-killers with you.”
“Seriously. This place is our home. The idea of someone breaking in and hurting a guest is just appalling. It’s a violation.”
“Have you heard anything from Quinn about catching the guy?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t look likely. It would be a different story if he had stolen something he could be caught in possession of or trying to pawn or sell.”
“My family would be gratified to hear I’m finally suffering for my lack of material greed.” She snagged a blueberry on a fork tine and popped it in her mouth. “I’d just like to know if he expected to find something. Lucy mentioned a book in her final letter to me. I haven’t been able to find it.”
“What kind of book would be worth attacking someone for?”
She shrugged, not wanting to go into the whole mess with Kevin. Something told her he hadn’t been privy to Lucy’s schemes; he was too inherently sweet. On the other hand, she was willing to bet his partner knew more than he was saying.
“Is Drew around?”
“No,” Kevin said shortly, dropping his gaze as he cracked open his muffin. Steam billowed up from its interior in a fragrant cloud. By contrast, the air temperature around him seemed to drop by ten degrees. His smile was nowhere in sight. “He’s off communing with nature. Fishing or something. I haven’t seen him this morning at all.”
“Oh.” Mari nibbled her lower lip, her attention split between the muffin and Kevin’s sudden change of mood. “Is anything wrong?”
He sighed, staring blankly down at his plate. “No. Nothing. Why did you want to see him?”
“Nothing major. We were just talking about Lucy the other night. I thought maybe we could finish the discussion over coffee.”
“Oh, well, he’ll be back eventually. Five at the latest. The trio starts playing in the lounge at seven.” He brightened hopefully as he looked up at her. “Will you be joining them?”
“Oh, I don’t know-”
“Come on,” he cajoled. “You’re not stage shy. It’d be great to hear you sing again.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
She checked her watch and stood, leaning over to pinch a bite of muffin. “Gotta go,” she said, popping the morsel into her mouth. She wiggled her fingers at him and backed away as he laughed.
Most of the morning was spent chauffeuring Will around town. From the hospital they went to Chuck’s Auto Body to procure the services of a tow truck. From Chuck’s they went to Big Sky Insurance to report the bad news. After being told his coverage would probably be canceled because of his driving record, he had Mari drive out to Cheyenne Used Car Corral on the outskirts of town, where he proceeded to try to weasel a loaner out of his good friend Big Ed Twofeathers. Big Ed told him to take a hike.
At the Gas N’ Go Will bought a pair of cheap sunglasses to replace the ones he’d lost in the wreck. They both bought greasy pizza slices and Barq’s root beer and ate lunch at a picnic table with a view of the diesel pumps, then climbed back in the Honda and headed for the ranch.
Depressed and drowsy from the painkillers, Will nodded off on the drive out to the Stars and Bars. Mari stuck Shawn Colvin in the tape deck and let her mind wander with the flow of the music, turning the facts and clues and questions over like playing cards in a mental game of solitaire. Her chain of thought was momentarily disrupted as they passed the site of Will’s wreck.
The truck had gone off the road in the middle of a tricky curve. Luckily, the embankment wasn’t steep, or he would almost certainly have been killed. Mari thought it was a wonder he wasn’t killed as it was. The pickup looked like a toy that had been stomped on by an irate giant. It lay on its side, crumpled and twisted.
Will woke as they rolled in through the gate at the ranch. From behind the dark lenses of his new mirror sunglasses, he did a quick scan for any sign of J.D. The longer he could put off a confrontation, the better. Zip trotted down from the house porch to bark at them. He could see Chaske at the end of the barn, trimming the hooves of a blocky bay gelding. J.D. was nowhere to be seen.
“Thanks for the lift, Mary Lee,” he said, popping open his door. He gave her a pained, weary smile. “You’re a pal.”
“Yeah.” She slid her sunglasses down on her nose and looked at him over the rims. “Remember that the next time you climb behind the wheel with a buzz on.”
He didn’t promise he wouldn’t do it again. He’d made enough promises he couldn’t keep.
As he climbed out of the Honda, the front door of the house swung open and Tucker and J.D. came out onto the porch. Tucker’s eyes bugged out at the sight of him. He had thrown his tattered, bloody shirt in the hospital trash and sweet-talked a nurse into giving him the top half of a set of green surgical scrubs. But even with the sunglasses there was no disguising the fact that he was beat up. A row of neat stitches marched across his forehead. His lower lip was puffed up like a porn queen’s. A bruise darkened his left cheekbone to the color of a rotting peach.
“Boy, you look like you stuck your head in a cotton sack full of wildcats!” the old man declared, hobbling down the porch steps. “Judas!” He turned his head and shot a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt. “Your mama wouldn’t know you from red meat! What the hell happened?”
Will squirmed, feeling like a bug under a microscope. Tucker was up close, scrutinizing his face, but far more piercing was J.D.’s gaze, which came all the way down from the porch. The shit was about to hit the fan. He could feel it the same as a radical shift in air pressure before a storm.
“Finally wrapped that truck around a tree, didn’t you?” J.D. said tightly, slowly descending the steps.
Will forced a sour grin. “Close, but no stogie. Rolled it sideways down a hill.” He spread his arms. “As you can see, I survived, but thanks so much for expressing your concern, brother.”
J.D. shook his head, angry with Will, but angrier with himself for the belated fear that came on his brother’s behalf. After all the bad blood that had passed between them, they still shared the same father. Will was a Rafferty and he had nearly gotten himself killed. J.D. wished he didn’t have to care. It hurt too much to care. Not for the first time, he wished he were an only child.
“Jesus. I ought to finish the job,” he snarled. “Of all the stupid, shit-for-brains-”
“I don’t need a lecture, J.D.”
“No? What do you need, Will? You need some pretty young thing to hold your hand and give you sympathy? You might try your wife.” That galled him almost as bad as caring about Will-caring that Will was with Mary Lee. The jealousy was like a live wire inside him, like a coiled snake, and he resented it mightily.
Mari climbed out of the Honda and leaned on the roof. “Lighten up, J.D. I just gave him a ride home from the hospital.”
“Well, that’s right neighborly of you, Mary Lee,” he drawled sarcastically.
“Jesus Christ, J.D.,” Will snapped. “Leave her out of this. It’s me you’re pissed at.”
“You’re damn right I’m pissed. We’ve got cattle to move up the mountain tomorrow and you’re in no shape to get on a horse. How the hell am I supposed to pay for an extra hand when every nickel you haven’t gambled away is tied up in trying to keep this place? And what about the doctor bills and the towing bill and the repair bill? Did any of those thoughts once cross your pickled mind while you were weaving down the road on a full tank of Jack Daniel’s?”
“No, J.D., they didn’t,” Will said bitterly. He curled his hands into fists at his sides and leaned toward his brother. “Maybe I’ve got other things on my mind besides this goddamn ranch. Did you ever think of that? Maybe I’m sick of being tied to it. Maybe I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to it!”
Tucker shifted nervously from foot to foot. His weathered old face screwed up into a look of sick apprehension. “Now, boys, maybe this ain’t the time-”
“Maybe the time’s passed,” J.D. said, his voice a deadly whisper.
Will felt as though his mirror glasses offered him no protection at all from J.D.’s penetrating gaze. As always, his brother could see right through them, right into his own weak soul. He didn’t measure up. Never had. Never would. No point in trying. No point in staying.
He met J.D.’s hard, cold gaze unflinching, and his childhood and youth passed before his mind’s eye-him tagging after J.D., the fights, the uneasy truces, the rare moments of camaraderie. They were brothers, but J.D. had never forgiven him for being born and he never would. Half brothers. The tag made him feel like half a man. Half as good. He felt something inside him shrivel and die. Hope. What a sad, sorry feeling.
“I’ll go pack a bag,” he said softly.
Tucker swore under his breath and tried to catch up as Will started for the house. Will raised a hand to ward him off and the old man faltered to a stop, looking helpless and angry. He wheeled on J.D., sputtering.
“Damnation, if you don’t have a head harder than a new brick wall!”
“Save your breath, old man.”
J.D. turned and walked away from him, toward the corrals. He willed himself not to look at Mary Lee, but he couldn’t hold himself to it. He cut a glance at her as she stood beside her car. Her eyes were stormy, her stare direct. Displeasure curved her ripe little mouth. Guilt snapped at him. He kicked it away. To hell with Mary Lee Jennings. To hell with Will. He didn’t need either one of them.
Mari told herself to get in the car and drive away. She had enough problems of her own without adding the burden of someone else’s sibling rivalry to the load. But she couldn’t seem to make herself leave. Will, for all his flaws, was a friend. J.D., in spite of many things, was her lover. She couldn’t just stand back and watch them tear their brotherhood apart. She knew only too well how irreparable damage like that could be.
Swearing at herself under her breath, she trotted after him. “J.D.-”
“Stay out of it, Mary Lee.” He kept on walking, his long strides forcing her to jog beside him. “It’s none of your goddamn business.”
“He could have been killed in that accident.”
“It would have served him right.”
“Damn you, Rafferty, stop it!” she snapped, slugging him in the arm as hard as she could, succeeding in making him turn and face her. “Stop pretending nothing and no one matters to you except this ranch.”
“Nothing does,” he growled.
“That’s a lie and you know it! If you were such a bastard, you wouldn’t keep on hundred-year-old ranch hands and an uncle whose mind went around the bend twenty years ago.”
“That’s duty.”
“That’s caring. It’s the same thing. And you care about Will too.”
“What the hell do you know about what I feel or don’t feel?” he demanded, furious that she had managed to strike a raw nerve. “You think going to bed with me makes you an expert? Jesus, if I’d known you were gonna be this much trouble, I’d’ve kept my pants zipped.”
Scowling blackly, he started once again for the corrals, where half a dozen horses stared over the fence with their ears pricked in interest. Mari went after him, calling herself seven kinds of a fool.
“I could say the same thing, you know,” she pointed out. “You’re never going to win any prizes for charm, and I sure as hell didn’t come to Montana to get stuck in the middle of a family feud.”
“Then butt the hell out.”
“It’s too late to pretend we don’t know each other.” She wanted to say it was too late to pretend they didn’t care, but she knew that would be asking for a kick in the teeth. She’d had enough pain to last her. “All I’m saying is, Will is the only brother you’ve got, J.D. Yes, he’s screwed up, but he’s not a lost cause. He needs help. You could drop the tough-guy act for ten minutes and show a little compassion.”
“You want compassion?” he sneered. “Go see a priest. It’s not an act, Mary Lee. I’m exactly what I appear to be.” He spread his arms wide. “Nothing up my sleeves. No trick mirrors. You think I’m a hardcase and you don’t like it? Tough shit. Go find yourself another cowboy to screw. There’s plenty around for the time being. Shit, you like my brother so well, maybe you’d rather be fucking him.”
Mari blinked hard and jerked back as if he’d slapped her. He may as well have. Tears flooded her eyes. She refused to let them fall. “Jesus, you can be the most obnoxious son of a bitch!”
“If you don’t like it, leave. Nobody’s gonna stop you, city girl.”
“Fine,” she whispered, her voice trembling too badly to manage anything more. With a violently shaking hand she swept an errant chunk of hair behind her ear. “I’m out of here. And don’t bother coming down to Lucy’s place again. I don’t need you either.”
“Good. I’ve got better things to do. Call me when you decide to sell the place.”
Fighting the tears, she started for her car, a blurry white blob across the yard, but she pulled up and turned to face him again, shaking her head. “You’re so busy protecting what you own, you don’t even see that you’re losing everything that’s really important. I feel sorry for you, Rafferty. You’ll end up with this land and nothing else.”
“That’s all that matters,” J.D. said, but Mary Lee had already turned away from him and was stalking back to her car, her hiking boots scuffing on the dirt and rock as she went.
He stood there and watched her drive away. She couldn’t matter to him. He couldn’t let her. She wouldn’t stay in his life. In another week or two she would tire of the rustic life and head back to California, and he would still be here, working the ranch and fighting to preserve his way of life from extinction. He couldn’t let anything intrude on that.
As he turned back toward the corral, the word martyr rang in his head and left a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. He spat in the dirt and climbed through the bars of the fence to catch a horse.
How she got down from the Stars and Bars without crashing into a tree was beyond her. A miracle. As if such things existed. Angry and hurt beyond all reason, Mari jumped out of the Honda and headed for the barn. Urgency pushed her to a jog, then she was sprinting into the dark interior and out the side door. Clyde raised his head from dozing and brayed at her. She kept on going to the llama pen and over the gate. She ran into the pasture until her knees threatened to give out and her lungs were on fire, then she fell down into the deep grass and lay there, sobbing.
She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Because Rafferty had hurt her feelings? He could have made a living at that, the bone-headed clod. Because she hurt for Will, for what the two brothers were losing? Because her friend was dead? Because she wanted a cigarette so badly, she would have gotten down on her hands and knees in the gutter to scrounge for butts? All of those reasons and more.
She lay in the grass and cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, then she just lay there. The sun shone down, as warm and yellow as melted butter amid popcorn clouds. A breeze fanned the grass and brought the scents of earth and wildflowers. Opening her eyes, Mari watched them bow to the breeze-delicate violets, blue-bells just starting to open, windflowers with their thick, hairy stems and showy blooms. Their beauty calmed her, their simplicity soothed her. A bumblebee buzzed lazily from blossom to blossom, oblivious of the human world and all its self-made agonies.
Maybe J.D. was right in giving his heart to this land. She could have given hers too. She felt a part of it, nourished by its beauty and its strength. Turning onto her back, she gazed up at the sky. It really was bigger here. A huge sheet of electric blue, stretching on forever. There were moments like this one, when she felt more at home here than she ever had anywhere. That sense of belonging had nothing to do with birthright. It had to do with things deeper than circumstance, with matters of the soul.
A llama nose descended on her, small and furry, twitching inquisitively as it bussed her cheek. Smiling, Mari sat up and reached out to stroke the baby’s neck. This one was brown from the shoulders back with a white front half and splotches of brown on his face, as if God had been forced to abandon the paint job to go on to more pressing matters.
“I’ll call you Parfait,” she announced, startled at the hoarseness of her voice.
The llama’s long ears moved from angle to angle like semaphore flags. A brown spot on her muzzle made her look as if she were smiling crookedly. Half a dozen of her older relatives stood a few feet away, studying Mari with their luxurious sloe eyes. They hummed softly to one another.
Mari curled her legs beneath her and stood slowly, worried that she might frighten them away. They just looked at her, chewing their grass and violets, their expressions gentle and wise. They were beyond the petty cruelty humans inflicted on one another. It didn’t matter to them that she’d fallen in love with a man who was both hero and villain. The scope of their simple world was so much greater. They held the secret to inner peace and looked on her with gentle pity for her ignorance. They offered solace in the form of company, understanding in their quiet manner.
She spent the afternoon with them, resolutely ignoring the various messes in which her life had become entangled. She mingled with the llamas, petting them and scratching them, talking with them about the greater meaning of life. For a few hours nothing else was important. She pretended she had stepped through a portal into a place of calm and reason. She let the llamas take the tension away, let the sun recharge her soul. Then, as the sun began its descent toward the mountains to the west, she stepped back into the real world of people and trouble and the mysteries of llama feed.