Читать книгу A Texas Family - Linda Warren - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
EVERY TIME CARSON drove under the wrought-iron arch for the Bar C Ranch, his chest filled with pride, which was quickly replaced with anger for a brief second. When he’d finished his tour of duty, he was excited to see his wife and son again. And to be there for his dad, who Beth had said had sunk into deep depression since Jared’s death. But that was just one of Carson’s many worries.
Even before Jared was murdered, Asa had turned over the reins of the ranch to Roland Stubbs, allowing him to sign checks. That was a big mistake. Roland sold all the cattle, horses, equipment and drained the ranch bank account. All that was left was the house, barns and land.
Carson’s return home was bittersweet. His dad sat brooding in his chair and didn’t show much interest in the ranch or in his daughter-in-law or grandson. Beth had been dealing with a newborn and hadn’t noticed anything strange going on except for the cattle trailers going in and out, which she’d thought was normal ranching business.
He’d contacted the sheriff, and Roland and Curly Sanders were soon arrested and convicted. Curly was released last year, but Roland would be in prison for some time to come. When Jena had mentioned goons, he’d had a bad feeling in his gut. Those two were ruthless enough to do anything.
He never quite understood his dad’s reasoning in handing the ranch’s responsibilities to Roland. He’d said it was Carson’s fault for not being here. The Bar C was his legacy, and neither he nor Jared showed any respect for what he’d built. So if the ranch was in trouble Carson had only himself to blame.
But Carson accepted only so much of that blame. According to Beth, his dad was spending a lot of time with a lady he kept in Austin. That meant he’d been ignoring his business, which had allowed Roland to weasel his way into a cushy job. As long as Asa saw money rolling in, he hadn’t questioned Roland or his activities.
“Dad, you better get your money ready,” Trey said from the passenger seat. “I made all A’s again, and it’s five bucks for every A. Remember?”
“What?”
“Dad.” Trey sighed. “You’re not listening.”
“Five bucks for every A. I got it.”
“Me, too, Daddy,” Claire said from her car seat in the back.
“You got it, princess.” He looked in the rearview mirror at his blonde beauty. She looked just like her mother except she had green eyes like him, as did Trey.
“You don’t get grades,” Trey told her. “You’re too little.”
“Am not.”
“Are, too.”
Carson held up his hand. “Enough. What are you going to do with your money, Trey?”
“Buy a new fishing rod. This summer I’m gonna catch that big ol’ catfish in Willow Creek.”
“I don’t like fishing,” Claire said. Like her mother, Claire would rather stay indoors.
The large two-story French colonial-style house came into view. It had an expansive veranda with a balcony above and the stately Greek columns typical of a Southern plantation. The Corbett home had been in the family for years, and Asa had completely renovated it for his wife, a Dallas socialite. She’d stayed long enough to have two sons and then returned to the city without them. Asa refused to let her take them, according to Carson’s aunt Fran. Asa’s wife had died one year later in a plane crash. Carson vaguely remembered the funeral.
He drove around back to the garages. The kids jumped out and ran through the breezeway to the sunroom. Aunt Fran, his dad’s sister, had a snack waiting for them. After Carson and Jared’s mother had left, their aunt came to help. She was the only mother figure they’d had in their lives. When he and Jared were older, she decided to travel and see the world. She’d returned for good when Jared died. Carson didn’t know what he would have done if she hadn’t. She could deal with Asa better than anyone.
“Where’s Pa?” He kissed his aunt’s cheek.
“In the den,” she replied, pouring milk into glasses. “He’s sitting in there with a picture of Jared in his lap. One of these days I’m going to hide it. It’s not healthy for him to stare at it all the time.”
In her late fifties, Aunt Fran had a reddish tint to her short, bobbed, graying blond hair. She was strong-willed and determined, like Asa, except she was a much softer version of him.
Carson walked into the den. Asa sat in his motorized wheelchair. He could work the joystick with his right hand. A physiotherapist was working with him, and Asa could stand and shuffle a couple of steps, but his left side was weak and stiff.
In his younger years, Asa had been a formidable, well-respected rancher. Governors, senators, congressmen courted Asa for favors. Many barbecues had been thrown on the Bar C to support the candidate of Asa’s choice. He’d ruled Willow Creek. Nothing had been done here without his approval. That was then. Now it was disheartening to see his robustly strong dad reduced to a shell of his former self.
“Hi, Pa,” he said.
Asa turned the chair to face his son. “K-ids.”
“They’re having a snack. They’ll be here in a minute.” The only bright spot in his dad’s life was his grandkids. Claire would crawl into his lap and help to work his fingers for exercise. Trey would help to work his legs, and he’d read to him. It was good for his kids. It taught them how to treat the disabled and the elderly...except his dad was only sixty-five.
Carson intended to bring up Jena Brooks but decided to wait. He didn’t want to upset Asa without showing him some hard evidence. He had to prove Ms. Brooks was lying, and the only way to do that was with facts.
The kids ran in, and Claire climbed up to sit in Asa’s lap, looking at the photo of Jared. Trey sat at his feet, telling his grandfather about his good grades.
“I’ve got to go out, guys. Trey, do your homework, and, Claire, I’ll help you when I get back.”
“I’ll help her, Dad,” Trey offered.
“Thanks, son.”
He got in his constable’s car and headed for Minnie Voltree’s house. The woman had to be in her seventies now, but the last time he’d seen her she was still spry and had all her mental faculties, as far as he could tell.
After crossing the tracks that divided the community, he turned onto a narrow dirt road that curled into a hilly wooded area. Minnie and her family lived deep in the woods, but people were still able to find her if they needed her. Since everyone, including the poor, had access to better medical care than used to be available in Willow Creek, Minnie’s midwife services were rarely needed these days.
A trailer house was barely visible. Carson drove over a cattle guard and into the front yard. Chickens pecked freely in the grass. Minnie sat in a chair on the attached front porch, snapping green beans. An old redbone coonhound lay at her feet.
“Afternoon, Constable,” Minnie said as he walked up the steps. The dog raised his head and then went back to sleep.
“Minnie.” He tipped his hat.
“What brings you out this way?” Minnie had a blue bandanna tied around her long gray hair. Her fingers continued to snap the beans deftly.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“About what?”
“Jena Brooks?”
Her fingers paused for a second. A bad sign. “Sure.”
“Did you deliver her baby?”
Minnie stopped snapping and stared at him with narrowed gray eyes. “No. Last I heard she left town, after the scandal and all.”
“She’s back.”
“You don’t say.” Minnie went back to her work, but her fingers were shaky. The second bad sign.
“She said you delivered her baby.”
“She’s lying.”
“She also said Asa took the baby from her.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, it is, but if you and Asa took her baby that means you stole it, and that’s illegal.”
Minnie stood abruptly, clutching the bowl. “I did not deliver Jena Brooks’s baby.”
“Not even for money?”
“I resent that.”
He ignored her indignation. “Did my father pay you to deliver her baby and give it away?”
“I’m not answering any more questions.” She stormed into the trailer and slammed the screen door. She stood just inside.
“If you want to talk to me, you know where my office is. Jena Brooks isn’t going away. She believes she has a real grievance, and she’s got an attorney working on her case.”
No response, as he’d expected.
He drove away with a niggling in his gut. Something fishy was going on, and his dad was right in the middle of it. His first instinct was to notify the sheriff of Hays County. They had the resources and the manpower to deal with this.
As the constable in this precinct, he provided law-enforcement services for Willow Creek and the surrounding rural areas. People called 911 for major crimes, which were rare. Those calls were handled by the sheriff’s department in San Marcos, and Carson would usually assist. Most people in town had his direct number and would call for minor incidents like a fight at the beer joint, trespassers or family squabbles.
They called Carson because they didn’t want to draw the attention of the sheriff. They just wanted the annoyance to go away. Very rarely did he have to arrest anyone. If he did, he had to transport them to the county jail in San Marcos.
Carson would contact the sheriff about Ms. Brooks’s allegation, but he had to be cautious for his dad’s sake. Asa wasn’t in good health, and sometimes he wasn’t even in his right mind. All his thoughts were focused on Jared. He couldn’t seem to let his youngest son rest in peace. To protect his father, Carson had to work the case.
Reaching the paved road, he stopped his vehicle. He’d have to do a thorough investigation and ask questions of the people in Willow Creek. They would remember. If someone could place Ms. Brooks with Roland and Curly, it would substantiate her claim.
The best person to question would be Ms. Brooks herself. Since he was already on the other side of the tracks, he’d do it now. He’d like to get her reaction to what Minnie had said.
He pulled into the Brookses’ driveway. He hadn’t been here in years. Lamar had killed his brother, and he’d just as soon have nothing to do with the murderer’s family. The house was run-down, as it had been for years. It had belonged to Norma’s mother. After her death, Norma inherited it. The old lady had kept the place up, but Lamar had never lifted a finger to fix anything. Sorry bastard!
The sound of a mower roared through the late afternoon. He got out and saw a woman pushing a mower on the left side of the house, making a circle to the front. At first he thought it was Hilary, but she wasn’t that curvy. It was Jena.
A completely different Jena from the morning. In denim shorts, a tank top and sneakers, she struggled to move through the tall grass. Her body glistened with sweat. She trudged behind the mower until she was about four feet from him. The whirly blades scattered grass all over his boots.
She reached down and turned off the mower. “What are you doing here, Constable?” she asked, using her forearm to wipe sweat from her brow.
“I’d like to talk to you.”
“Just a minute.” She ran for the porch, where there was a bottle of water. Unscrewing the top, she took a big gulp. For the first time he noticed how beautiful she was, with her dark hair and eyes and olive complexion. Beth had said Jared was besotted with Jena, and he could now see why. She had a fresh innocent appeal that was hard to ignore.
Slowly, she walked back, the bottle in her hand. “What did you want to talk about?”
He leaned against his vehicle. “You not used to hard labor?”
“Not really. I work in an office.”
“Ah, the lawyer.” That brought him down to earth like a shattered clay pigeon and reminded him this wasn’t a social call. He cleared his throat. “I paid Minnie Voltree a visit.”
“And?”
“She said you’re lying. That she did not deliver your baby.”
“Did you actually think she’d admit to it?” Her eyes never wavered from his, and that sincere gaze was doing a number on his senses.
“I was hoping for some hard evidence to place you at the Bar C.”
She pointed the bottle at him. “Then why aren’t you asking Asa? He knows everything. Or is he getting special treatment because he’s your father?”
“Maybe.” He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “He’s not well, and he’s still grieving for Jared. I want real evidence before I confront him.”
“Okay.” She gazed off to the oak trees. “How many people know the Bar C has a basement?”
“Not many.”
“How many people have been in it?”
“Even fewer.”
She brought her eyes back to his. “I know exactly what it looks like. There’s a stairway near the kitchen that leads to the top floor. Underneath the staircase is a door that leads to the basement.”
He held up a hand. “Jared could have taken you there.”
“Other than when I gave birth, I was only on the Bar C once.” She held up one finger. “Jared wanted to take me horseback riding. I didn’t want to go, but he insisted. As soon as we drove up to the barn, Asa galloped up and shouted to Jared, ‘Get that piece of trash off my property and get your ass back home. I want to talk to you.’ After that I would never go there.”
For some reason he believed her—that certainly sounded like Asa. She was confident, sure and never took her eyes off him.
“Roland and Curly grabbed me as I was leaving the convenience store. Roland had a pistol, and he told me to shut up and do as I was told. I was scared—for me and my baby. Curly tied my hands with a rope, and they took me to the basement at the Bar C. With my big stomach I couldn’t see the steps very well, and I tripped a couple of times. I was shaking with fear and wanted to shield my baby. When I saw Minnie, I was relieved. She told me everything would be fine, and then she gave me some stuff to drink. She said it would calm my nerves. A half bed was in a corner with sheets and towels stacked high next to it. I became woozy, and she undid the rope and helped me to lie down.”
Jena screwed the cap back onto the bottle, and her hand shook slightly. He knew she was reliving that day. At that moment he knew she wasn’t lying. For the first time, he was torn between family and the truth.
Like everyone else in Willow Creek, he’d never really thought about what had happened to Jena’s baby. He’d listened to what his father had said about the baby’s paternity and put Jena Brooks out of his mind. When he returned home from the Marines for good, the murder cases had been closed and everyone had moved on. Now...
“I woke up to labor pains ripping through my body. I was under a sheet, and my maternity jeans and shoes had been removed. Minnie gave me more stuff to drink, and it helped the pain. Then I heard the word breech, and another voice said, ‘Let her die.’ It was Asa.”
Both of her hands gripped the bottle. “I felt as if my insides were being yanked out of my body. Just when I thought I couldn’t bear it any longer, I heard the baby cry. I held out my arms, wanting to hold it, and I heard Asa again. ‘I got it,’ he said. That’s when I knew they were taking my baby. I screamed and tried to get up. I was so weak I blacked out. When I woke up, I was fully clothed. I got up, intending to find my baby. Roland and Curly were there. I fought them, and Roland slapped me and told me to shut up or Asa would kill me. He told my mother the same thing. She got me out of Willow Creek that night.”
“Why didn’t you call the sheriff?”
“I was a teenager and scared. My father had just killed Jared Corbett. No one was going to believe me. Just like you don’t believe me now.”
“It’s a lot to take in.” The sun was going down in the west, bathing them in a soft glow, and it seemed strange talking to her, the daughter of the man who’d killed his brother. Yet, in another way he felt something he couldn’t explain. It was her. He was riveted by her soft voice and heartfelt emotions.
“You said you wanted evidence I’d been at the Bar C.” Her voice interrupted his troubled thoughts. “In the basement there’s a rack for rods and reels on one wall. Football jerseys hang on hooks. One has Jared printed on the back and the other has Carson. A beautiful armoire and matching headboard are stored in a corner. Boxes labeled Caroline are stacked next to it.”
“They belonged to my mother,” he said, startling himself. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“There’s a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling with a long string to turn it on and off,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I bled a lot during the birth, and some dripped onto the floor. Minnie tried to wipe it up with bleach. I know because I heard her tell Roland she needed more bleach to clean up the blood. I bet the stain is still on the concrete. As you go down the stairs, it would be on the far left. The bed, towels and sheets I’m sure were burned.”
“I’ll check it out,” he said through a dry throat. He took a moment and gauged his next words. “I don’t understand why you’re coming back now. It’s been...what? Almost nine years?”
“When I heard Asa had had a stroke, I knew this was my last chance to find my child. If he dies, his secret will die with him. I’m not afraid of him anymore, either. I just want the child who was taken from me.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“What?”
“Please don’t take offense, but why was my dad so sure the baby wasn’t Jared’s?”
“Jared said Roland filled Asa’s head with nonsense, like he’d seen me out with this guy or that guy.”
“And that wasn’t true?”
“No. Jared was my only boyfriend, but more than that, he was my friend.”
It would be callous to point out that her father had shot Jared in cold blood. They’d talked enough for today. He had a lot of thinking to do.
“Thank you for your candor, Ms. Brooks. I’ll be in touch.” He got in his vehicle and drove away.
Conflicting thoughts warred inside him. Could his father do something so barbaric?
He returned home, his thoughts directed inward. Aunt Fran was in the kitchen. “Supper’s almost ready,” she called.
“I have to check something in the basement first.”
“We caught that mouse.”
“I’m just checking.” He took the narrow steps two at a time. It was dark now, so he moved slowly when he got to the bottom, reaching for the string. He pulled it and light flooded the basement. Everything was just as she’d described. He walked toward the left side of the room and saw it. A large dark spot—her blood.
Oh, God. A pain shot through him. She wasn’t lying. She’d given birth in this basement. What had his father done with the child?
* * *
JENA PUSHED THE mower to the shed in the back. It was too dark to mow now. Her mind was filled with thoughts of her conversation with Carson. Even as farfetched as her story sounded, she got the feeling he believed her. And, to her dismay, she understood his reluctance to talk to his father.
For years she’d dreamed of revenge, but after a few hours in Willow Creek she was surprised to find her desire for it wasn’t as strong as before. She needed only peace now. Asa Corbett was already in hell—stoking the fire would accomplish nothing. She just wanted information about her child. Carson would get that.
Jared had often said his older brother was the heroic type, the kind who would rescue a kitten from a burning building without any thought to his own safety. He was honest and straightforward. Jena had already sensed those qualities in him. Even though it would hurt his family, he would do the right thing. He’d confront his father.
Jena had to put her trust in Carson, and she found the thought oddly disturbing and uplifting at the same time.
Hilary swerved into the driveway, headlights blinding Jena. Jumping out, Hil said, “Hey, sis, I brought chicken-fried steaks for supper.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had Mabel’s chicken-fried steak.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. I brought chocolate pie with mile-high meringue, too.”
They walked toward the steps, and Hil suddenly stopped. “Didn’t get the yard mowed, huh?”
“Why didn’t you buy a self-propelled mower?”
Hil shrugged. “They cost more, and the guys usually mow, but they’ve been busy. I thought I’d get it done by the time you arrived.”
“I did the back, and, believe me, my muscles will be protesting tomorrow. As I was pushing that blasted thing to the front, the constable drove up.”
“What did Carson want?”
“To ask questions about that night.”
“Is he going to do anything?”
“Yes. I believe he is.”
“Hmm. You sound different than you did this morning. Are you developing a soft spot for the constable?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”
“If you say so. But he’s s-o-o good-looking if you like tall, strong and masculine.”
“Shut up.” She held the door open and Hil laughed, walking inside.
“Hey, Mama, time for supper,” Hil shouted.
Norma clicked off the television. “I wondered where you girls were.”
“She seems fine,” Hil whispered in the kitchen.
“She’s been that way all afternoon.”
“Told you. It comes and goes.”
Hil ran around the kitchen in her cute cowgirl boots like a bunny on steroids, putting the meal on the table and fixing tea.
“How much coffee have you had today?”
“Enough.” Hil made a face.
They sat around the old Formica-and-chrome table and ate. It was reminiscent of better times. Before her dad started drinking heavily. Before Jared. Before...
“It’s nice to have my oldest home,” Norma said. “I was going to bake a cake, but I couldn’t get the stove to work.”
“It’s just temperamental,” Hil replied. “I can make it work, but I brought food and pie. We’re good.”
“Okay.” Norma continued to eat, but Jena noticed a change in her. She became quiet and stared at the refrigerator. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Norma mumbled, “It’s getting chilly. We’ll probably have ice in the morning. I saw on the TV it was snowing somewhere.”
Hil choked on her pie, coughed and took a quick gulp of tea. “What the hell was she watching?” Hil mouthed.
“Wheel of Fortune,” Jena mouthed back.
Hil shrugged. “It’s not that chilly, Mama.”
“I wonder where my flannel gown is.” Their mother stood and meandered to her room.
They cleaned the table and put the containers in plastic bags. “I’ll take the trash to the café in the morning.” Hil tied the top of the bag into a knot.
“What do we do about Mama?” Jena asked.
“I don’t know. I just agree with whatever she says. That seems to work best.”
They went to their mother’s bedroom and found her standing near the bed in a flannel nightgown, looking confused. “Where’s my electric blanket, Hilary?”
“It’s on the bed.” Hil winked at Jena.
“Good. I wanted to take a bath, but it’s just too cold.”
“That’s okay, Mama.” Hil helped her into bed.
“Is the blanket on?”
Hil knelt and pretended to fiddle with something. “How’s that?”
“Much better.”
Her sister got to her feet and kissed their mother. “Night.”
“Now, don’t you girls talk all night. You have school tomorrow.”
“We won’t.”
Her mother was in another time and another place. Maybe after all she’d been through it was a better place for her. And she had the resilient strength of Hilary to help her. Once again Jena was amazed at her sister’s patience and compassion.
She kissed her mother’s forehead. “Night, Mama.”
“I’m so happy to have my beautiful daughter home.”
“Hey. What am I? The ugly duckling?” Hil teased.
“You’re my sweet, good daughter.”
Hil flicked off the light. “Yeah, like that’s gonna get me a date with Ryan Reynolds?”
“The actor?” Jena asked as they walked out.
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t he married?”
“So? I’m not picky.”
“You’re a nut.”
Before Hil could respond, Jena’s cell buzzed, and she ran into the bedroom to get it. “It’s Blake,” she said.
“I’ll take a bath and give you some privacy.” Grabbing a T-shirt out of a drawer, Hil disappeared into the bathroom.
“Hi, Blake.” She sat on the bed.
“I was getting worried. You didn’t call.”
“I didn’t realize you wanted me to.”
“Of course. I worry about you going back to that place.”
“I’m fine.”
“Did you talk to the constable?”
“Yes, and he’s being very cooperative.”
“I don’t know why you don’t let me handle it. Then you wouldn’t have to go back there.”
She drew a deep breath. Blake was a master manipulator. “My mother and my sister are here, and I wanted to see them. If I need help, you’ll be the first person I call.”
There was a long pause. “The office is not the same without you.”
“I’ve been gone one day.”
“It feels like a month.”
She gripped her phone. Blake was ten years her senior and good to her, but he tended to push too hard and that immediately sent alarms sounding through her. When she’d started working for Blake’s firm, she was hired as a receptionist, and she was happy to get the job. It paid well. Then one evening Blake and his team were working a major high-profile case and one of the assistants called in sick. Blake’s secretary asked if she could stay late and help out.
The next day Blake complimented her on her hard work and that made her feel good about herself. The personal assistant who’d been ill soon quit because she was having a difficult pregnancy. Blake offered Jena the job, and she’d gladly accepted. Her job was basically being at Blake’s beck and call. Between his secretary and Jena, they kept him on track and on time. Jena usually joined the entourage who went with him to court, and she loved that part of her work.
Jena looked on Blake as a father figure. He looked on her as something more. They’d gone out a few times, and she made it clear she wasn’t ready for the kind of commitment he wanted. She didn’t know if she would ever be.
Of course, he’d wanted to know why. She had to be honest, so she told him about her ordeal in Willow Creek. As a lawyer, he was outraged and determined to get justice for her. He offered to do it pro bono.
But she refused to let him fight her battles. If she did, it would move their relationship to another level, and she didn’t want that. She listened when he told her that her rights had been grossly violated and Asa Corbett should be in jail. Nine years was long enough, she’d decided. She had to face her past. She had to know about her child.
“Jena?”
“Oh...sorry.” She’d drifted away from the conversation. “I’ll probably stay longer than I’d planned. My mom is not well, and I need to help my sister with her.”
“Take as long as you need, but don’t let that country constable take advantage of you.”
“I won’t.” She couldn’t imagine Carson doing that, but then, she hardly knew him.
“I could take care of everything, and you wouldn’t even have to see the Corbetts.”
She gritted her teeth. Blake did not get the meaning of the word no. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call tomorrow. ’Bye.” She clicked off and slipped the phone back into her purse.
“Through?” Hil asked from the doorway in a T-shirt that had Kiss My Grits on it.
“Yeah.” She got her nightclothes out of her suitcase and went into the bathroom to calm down. Blake could be so sweet. Other times he was controlling. She would only ask for his help as a last resort. She could handle this on her own.
When she came out, Hilary was sitting on the floor, her back against the bed, her head resting on the mattress as she stared at the ceiling.
Jena followed her gaze and slid down beside her, looking up. “You painted that?” A mural of a baby-blue sky, fluffy white clouds with a rainbow shooting across, graced the ceiling.
“Yeah. It’s relaxing, isn’t it?”
“Mmm.”
“I sit here or lie in bed and dream about what’s at the end of the rainbow. A place where the phrase ‘poor white trash’ doesn’t exist. Where rumors and gossip are unheard of. Where there are beautiful homes with manicured lawns and gorgeous flowers. And I live in one of them with a man who loves and respects me.” Hil turned her head to look at Jena. “What do you dream about?”
She swallowed hard. “I dream one day this big empty hole in my heart will be filled. I’ll wake up one morning and be free from the past. But most of all I dream of holding my child in my a-arms.” Even though she tried to stop it, her voice cracked.
“Oh, Jen-Jen.”
Hilary hugged her, and then they both burst into tears—two girls from the wrong side of town dreaming of a better way of life. For Hilary, her dream would probably never come true. She was stuck in Willow Creek. That broke Jena’s heart.
For herself, her dream was just within her grasp.
