She exhaled loudly, enjoying the ambiance of the ranch. In New York, life could be so hectic…and usually was.
Here, ah, here, there was a sense of peace—
“Oof,” she said, pitching forward against a fence post, then the ground, as something hit her on the back.
Startled, the ever-present fear of the past few months raising its ugly head, she rolled over and got a good licking in the face. Fright dissolved into laughter.
“Who are you?” she asked, sitting up while a black-and-white dog, mostly border collie, frolicked all around her.
“Smoky,” a familiar voice answered.
Jessica smiled at Clyde, who’d entered the yard through a nearby gate, and leaned on her elbows while he stopped a couple of feet from her.
“Smoky, down,” he ordered when the dog jumped up and planted his paws on the man. “Sit.”
The dog obeyed at once.
Clyde leaned forward and offered Jessica a hand. When she clasped it, he pulled her to her feet. “Sorry about Smoky,” he said in his butter-smooth baritone. “He’s never met a person he didn’t like.”
“I like him, too.” She scratched the collie’s ears.
The dog rewarded her by closing his eyes and leaning into her hand in apparent ecstasy.
“You’ve made a slave for life,” Clyde remarked. “I’ve got to run into Red Rock to pick up a part for the baler. Do you want to go?”
She really would have liked to ride along, but she shook her head and thanked him for the offer. “I don’t think I should be seen in town. My sister and her family live in Red Rock. They don’t know I’m in the area.”
“Are you worried that they might be watched?”
“Yes.”
A frown nicked a line across his forehead. “Maybe you shouldn’t stay here alone.”
“It should be okay. Roy can’t possibly know where I am. Violet and I were careful to talk away from my condo and never on the phone.”
A sardonic expression flickered through his eyes. “A wise precaution, I’m sure,” he murmured.
Jessica realized he didn’t take the threat seriously. Another thought—almost as horrifying as that of being stalked by a madman—came to her. Surely he didn’t think she and Violet had planned her visit in order to…to…well, to catch his attention.
That idea had never entered her mind.
Anger bubbled in Jessica. Her friend had told her many times while they were growing up that the boys had to fight off females all the time. Huh. If he was conceited enough to think she was chasing him, he could think again!
“You seem to have lost your Texas twang,” he said, falling into step beside her as she continued her stroll around the grounds, heading for the stables to see if they kept horses at this ranch.
“Most of it,” she agreed. “I still say ‘y’all’ when I get excited.” She kept her smile polite but remote.
“I miss it,” he said suddenly.
She was certainly shocked to hear that. “I’m sure you get plenty of down-home dialect from the locals.”
He nodded and smiled. “I still don’t understand everything the owner at the tractor place says. His son clues me in when I look blank.”
She thought of long-ago days and laughed. “The way Violet did for me when we were kids.”
“Yeah.”
While his tone was somewhat amused, there was a seriousness about him that didn’t invite levity.
Violet had told her Clyde had been hurt by the death of his first love when he was fresh out of college and the triplets were trying to realize their dream of owning a ranch. The woman had died in an auto accident, apparently the day they were to be married.
Violet had also warned that Clyde never, ever spoke of it. For a time, Jessica had thought it was her job to ease his hurt. But she’d been young and romantic back then, she mused, excusing the impressionable girl she’d once been.
“He needs to listen to his heart again,” her friend had told her gravely.
Fine. Maybe he’d meet some woman who would bowl him over and bring out those devastating smiles more often. That woman wouldn’t be her, though.
“Here,” he said. He held out his hand.
When she extended hers, he dropped a set of keys onto her palm. She looked at him, a question in her eyes.
“There’s a station wagon in the garage. Feel free to use it. The other key is to the front door. We don’t lock it, but once in a while the cleaning lady does. I don’t want you to get locked out.”
“Thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
He hesitated. “If you need something at the grocery, there’s one on down the road about five miles. You don’t have to go to the one in Red Rock.”
“That’s good. I’ll get cereal and nonfat milk, if you don’t mind my using the refrigerator.”
“Be my guest. My mom would love to see something in it besides beer, soda, orange juice and moldy lunch meat.”
He actually laughed. It was so enchanting Jessica could only gaze at him, spellbound, for a second. Then she smiled and stuck the keys in her pocket.
“See you later,” she said, then snapped her fingers at the dog. “Come on, Smoky. You can be my guide while we explore the ranch.” She paused and glanced at her host, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “If that’s okay?”
Clyde nodded. With his long, easy stride, he headed for a pickup parked next to the stable, then paused. “My parents may drop by later. Tell ’em I’ll be back soon and that Miles will be here tonight. They’re staying at the Double Crown this week.”
“Right.”
After he drove away, Jessica strolled the grounds and admired the many flowers. She assumed his parents’ visit had something to do with the mysterious body found in Lake Mondo. The murder hadn’t made the national news, but it had caused a big flurry of gossip and speculation in their corner of Texas. She and Violet had discussed the story at length.
The deceased man had had a birthmark on his right side, one that looked like a double crown—the same birthmark that Ryan Fortune had and that his father had named his ranch for.
Only it didn’t come from the Fortune bloodline.
Ryan Fortune’s father, Kingston, had been an abandoned baby, left on the doorstep of Hobart and Dora Fortune, who’d lived in Iowa. The kind and loving couple had adopted the child and raised him as their own. Kingston had grown up and moved to Texas where he became very wealthy.
The birthmark on Ryan was assumed to come from the Fortune family line, but it came from his biological grandfather, Travis Jamison. Travis had gone into the army, leaving behind a young, pregnant woman. Eliza Wise had deserted her baby and left Iowa to make a new life.
Christopher Jamison, Travis’s descendent through his legitimate children and therefore cousin to Ryan Fortune, was the murdered man. He’d been a math teacher in Seattle, Washington. His fiancée seemed to think he’d come to Texas in search of his family.
Ah, well. It was none of her affair. Jessica threw her arms wide and raced down the sunny slope of the grassy lawn toward the line of trees, Smoky prancing at her heels.
There