Homespun Christmas (18 page)

Myka appeared behind Tony and struck him hard on the back of his head with a skillet. Tony sank to his knees, stunned and feebly reaching for his head with both hands.

“Stay down!” Joshua ordered, stepping up.

He glanced at Myka. “I told you to stay outside.” Her gaze was still fastened on Tony and she held on to the skillet with both hands, ready to swing it again if necessary.

“I don’t do as I’m told,” she answered predictably.

As the kitchen door swung open, Grandma entered, leading with the barrel of a shotgun. “We done here?” she asked. Noticing Daniel on his knees, the front of his shirt ripped open, she aimed the shotgun at Tony. “If you move another inch...” she said, her voice shaking.

“Grandma, it’s okay,” Daniel said.

“I’ll watch him now, ma’am,” Joshua said, reaching for the shotgun. “Facedown on the floor, Tony, hands away from your body,” he snapped. “Try anything, and you’ll leave here in two plastic bags.”

Tony eased himself to the floor.

“Where’s Evie?” Myka asked Grandma.

“She’s okay. We’re playing ‘hide and seek.’ This animal came to the door and tried to push his way in, but Daniel held him off while Evie and I got away.”

Daniel was on his feet now, tending his bloody nose with a hand towel. Grandma came over to take a look. “You should get yourself checked out at the hospital, Daniel.”

“I’m fine. Just cuts and bruises,” he muttered.

“You done good, as Grampa Medeiros used to say,” Joshua said.

Grandma rolled her eyes. “Get cleaned up, Daniel. I called the police while you were in here destroying my kitchen, but it seems Will was already on his way.”

Joshua nodded. “I didn’t call when he expected.”

“Show me where Evie is, Grandma,” Myka said, looking toward the living room. “She’s probably scared to death right now.”

Grandma shook her head. “I told her we were playing a grown-up game that was like cops and robbers. She wanted to believe it, so...” Grandma shrugged. “It was the best I could do off the cuff.”

“Uh, Myka, I think you can leave the frying pan behind,” Joshua said.

* * *

F
IVE
MINUTES
LATER
, Will came into the kitchen, pistol in hand. “Give me the shotgun, Joshua,” he ordered, placing his weapon back into the holster.

“Gladly,” Joshua said. “It’s not loaded,” he added, looking over at Daniel, who shrugged.

“Roll over, moron,” Will ordered, tapping Tony’s foot with his boot. “But stay down.”

Tony’s eyes fastened on Will’s badge. “Hey, Solis, a man has a right to see his daughter,” he growled. “I asked to see her, but they wouldn’t let me in. Then that one attacked me,” he said, pointing to Daniel.

Will gestured to the splintered door and the imprint of a boot on the trim. “Evidence indicates it was the other way around. Breaking and entering, assault and attempted kidnaping are serious offences. Better find a lawyer. You’re under arrest.”

“You’ll never get any of those charges to stick.”

“You’re on parole with a record for violent behavior. They’ll stick,” Will said.

Tony twisted away and reached inside his boot. A second later, he brought out a knife.

In a lightning fast move, Joshua stomped down hard on Tony’s hand.

Something snapped and Tony howled.

“Looks like I’ll be adding assault with a deadly weapon on a police officer to the charges,” Will said, kicking the knife away.

“He broke my fingers,” Tony said, then looked at Joshua. “You’ll pay for this. I’ll find you.”

“Not where you’re going,” Will said. “Don’t make any travel plans for the next ten years—assuming you survive prison.”

Will jerked Tony to his feet, hauled him to the police cruiser in handcuffs and placed him in the backseat. Then he read him his rights.

With the prisoner secure, Will turned to Joshua and gave him a brief nod.

Joshua nodded back, acknowledging the gesture in silence. No words were needed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
HE
FOLLOWING
DAY
, Myka sat in her office, Bear by her feet. Taking a break, she leaned back and rubbed her eyes. The company was doing better than anyone had expected— including her.

Robyn knocked lightly, then came in. “Reps from two regional retailers have accepted our invitation to come take a look at our products and facility. How did you make out?”

Myka smiled slowly. “I went directly to Grabel and Sons.”

Robyn’s eyes grew big. “They’ve got stores in a half-dozen major cities!”

“I know, and it took me a while to work up the courage to call them. I did my homework first, found out everything I could about their regional buyer, then took my shot.”

“And?”

“Well, at first I got the runaround. I figured I’d eventually reach some upper level secretary and be politely kissed off. Then, a little while ago, I got an email from their buyer. He’s coming to take our tour.”

“We did it, Myka. We’ve got some heavy hitters interested!”

“I know. We’ll give the reps a tour of Independence, focusing on our recovery—thanks to HMI—then come back here. I see this as an all-day event. They’ll be able to watch our wool processing, the spinners at work and our wood carvers’ basement toy shop. We’ll conclude with a display of all our merchandise.”

“This could be a huge break,” Robyn said.

“We’ll have to get things perfectly organized, and I mean down to the last detail,” Myka said.

She reached into her desk drawer and popped an antacid in her mouth.

Robyn shook her head. “Myka, you’ve been putting in longer hours than anyone else. If you keep pushing yourself, you’re going to be a wreck by the end of the year. You really need some downtime, girl.”

Robyn turned her head at the sound of a closing door just down the hall. “Joshua, I need your help here,” she called out.

Joshua came up to Myka’s open office door. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Myka needs to get away for a few hours to unwind. Any suggestions on how to pry her out from behind that desk?” Robyn asked.

“I have one,” Joshua responded immediately. “Myka, how about taking off with me today? I’m making a list of what’s needed to convert the Brooks Mansion into a public museum. The rear living quarters will also be preserved as a historical site. Would you like to come with me and walk through the place?”

“I’d love it!” Myka said.

“I went by the bank yesterday and the renovation you did there turned out great,” Robyn said. “That enormous wagon wheel at the front and the open wooden porch and sidewalk look wonderful. There’s even a hitching rail,” she added, looking at Myka.

He smiled. “The building’s facade needed some flair. Now it’s a fusion of old frontier and modern Southwest. I like the way it came together.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” Myka said. “Let’s go. This’ll give Bear a chance to get some fresh air.”

When they reached Main Street, Myka noted that most of the storefronts had been fixed up, even the buildings that were still unoccupied. The center of town looked alive again. She saw doorways and window trim painted a vibrant shade of Southwest blue that was said to drive evil away.

“What are those kids doing?” Myka asked, seeing three high schoolers in front of the bank. One student was filming and another read from cue cards that were held up by a third teen.

Joshua had no answer, so they waited until the one with the script yelled cut before going to ask.

“It’s our telecommunications project,” the girl explained. “We’re filming the town’s comeback. Aren’t you two the founders of HMI, the company that took over the old plant building? We’d love to film there, too. Would that be okay?”

“Call the office or stop by and ask for Robyn Jenner. Whatever she says goes.” Myka handed the girl one of their business cards.

Deciding to enter the Brooks Mansion through the older Territorial-style residence on Second Avenue, they circled the block. Soon they entered the gated compound and stepped onto the full-length veranda facing Second Street.

“I like this older section of the mansion best,” Joshua said. “It’ll need to be repainted, have some cracks fixed, and the electrical systems will need to be updated, but all that can be done easily and without changing its character.”

“I was only inside this building once, and that was way back when, but I remember it as if it were yesterday. The doorways are arched, and there are beautiful wooden columns throughout. There’s also a special
banco—
a window seat—that faces the courtyard. It was such a cozy spot!”

“All that’s still there. As a kid, I’d walk by here often and daydream about all the cool things I’d do to the place if it were mine.”

“Like what?”

“Keep in mind that I was a kid and I’d never been inside at all,” he said and grinned. “My plans were to take full advantage of the thick walls and turn it into one super fortress—with a TV and game room,” he added, laughing. “Come on. Let’s go in and I’ll show you around.”

Bear followed them in, content to keep pace as they toured the house.

Joshua pointed out his favorite areas, like the massive central fireplace in the
sala,
decorated with inlaid Spanish tile and stenciled floral designs near the mantel.

He called her attention to the hand-carved posts and trim around the windows. “The floors here are either wood plank or brick throughout and they’re in remarkably good shape. The tile roof has held up well, too, so there’s been very little water damage.”

“That’s because we’ve had practically no rainfall—as in drought conditions,” she said with a smile.

“Dad wrote to me about that,” he answered, smiling back.

She stopped by a large square indentation in the thick adobe wall. “I wonder what was here? It looks like a
nicho,
but this could hold an entire collection of statues, not just one.”

“The hand-painted decorations around the sides don’t fit with a
nicho
either. They’re mostly Indian fetishes, like what you’d see in Anasazi sites.”

She studied them carefully. “What an odd thing this is. Maybe he had a TV here, but with the thick walls reception couldn’t have been great. He certainly didn’t have cable or one of those dishes.”

“There’s another one of these strange
nichos
in a back room. The one there was framed with wood and the interior has Indian corn motifs. I have a feeling these were originally meant to hold something specific—maybe a small safe—then Brooks changed his mind.”

“He certainly took the word
eccentric
to new levels,” Myka said.

“That’s why I think Dad was right, and the will’s hidden here. Silas would have wanted to keep a close eye on it,” he said. “I’ve looked around and I haven’t found anything, but frankly I’ve been focused on the architecture.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

Joshua smiled. “There are so many odd structural details in this house. It’s almost as if he’d been deliberately trying to misdirect anyone searching for the real hiding place.”

“That might explain those massive
nichos,
or come to think of it, maybe those were just his version of bookshelves.”

“It would certainly fit Brooks’s odd way of thinking,” he said. “Let’s keep looking around. Maybe something that seems out of place will catch your eye. Hiding places could be almost anywhere, and four eyes are better than two. If we don’t find anything here, we can go check out the building on the other side of the passageway.”

Bear remained by Myka’s side as they went from room to room. The house was eclectic and beautiful in a classic New Mexico style, with Mr. Vega’s painting of the Cross of the Martyrs the focal point of a small private chapel. The furniture that remained was comprised of heavy, hand-painted pieces that looked to be in nearly perfect shape.

“This
trastero
is gorgeous,” she said, standing by an armoire. “Look at the beautiful colors around each painted-angel panel on the doors.”

“Some of the finest pieces of colonial furniture were crafted with religious themes,” he said.

The rear portion of the house held four bedrooms, the last three having been added on, one after the other, over the years. The most interesting part was that there were no hallways. The rooms’ only access points were through the passage doors of the previous bedroom.

“I’ve been told that this part of the house was his favorite because it’s impossible to gain access to it without going through the carved wooden door leading to the first bedroom. The dead bolts and metal locks would have taken several gun blasts to dislodge. In the meantime, Brooks could have retreated to the second bedroom, giving the intruder yet another door to break down.”

“It’s sad that he spent so much of his life living in fear,” Myka said as they turned back and entered Silas’s home office, just off the
sala.

Myka turned in a circle, admiring the decor. “Imagine having this as your office! Those big dark
trasteros
and the heavy wood plank flooring make it all look so regal.” She ran her hand over one of the intricately carved wooden posts that supported the ceiling.

“It’s a blend of New Mexican style architecture and early European. Again, nothing really fits.”

“Yeah, it does,” Myka said. “The house is a bit like a crazy quilt that comes together despite itself. At least there’s nothing really modern in here that would jar you—well, except for the wiring and plumbing, I suppose.”

“Despite its history and eclectic design, this place really gets under my skin. I love it,” Joshua said.

Myka traced the grooved, carved section on one of the posts with her fingertips. “I wonder how old this is. Do you know?”

He ran his hand over the matching post on his side of the room. “I’m not sure, but judging from what I learned about wood carving from my dad, this level of craftsmanship could take weeks. All of this was done with hand tools—it’s old-school artistry.”

He was brushing a dusty cobweb from the curves when he suddenly jerked his hand back.

“You okay?”

“The center gave,” he said, shaking the stubborn web from his fingertips.

She tapped the post beside her. “This one’s solid wood—no give at all.”

He knocked right above the spot where he’d felt something. It sounded solid there, too, but as he moved downward and continued tapping, the sound changed subtly.

Joshua got down on one knee for a closer look. “There’s a cut in one of the grooves.” He brought out his pocket knife and tried to force the section open, but nothing happened.

“Press in instead,” she said.

He did as she suggested, and an eight-inch curved section of wood fell onto his hand. “It’s spring-loaded and shaped like an
E,
or maybe the number 3,” he said.

“It’s hollowed out. Anything inside?” she asked, her heart suddenly beating overtime.

“Yeah,” he said and reached in. “There’s a carved stone fetish and old folded papers.” He brought out the fetish first and studied it. “It’s Lynx. My dad told me once that he’s the guardian of secrets. Smart of old Silas, putting a hiding place below eye level.”

Next, Joshua pulled out the paperwork, which had been scrunched into a groove. “These are so dry and fragile I’m afraid to handle them,” he said, gently placing them on the nearest table.

The papers had been folded then rolled up tightly. After a few minutes on the table, they began to unfurl slightly on their own. He pulled his leather gloves from his pocket, pressed one end lightly and tried to read a few lines.

Myka came up behind him. “I recognize the town seal. The document’s been notarized. Maybe it’s the will,” she said, trying to stay calm but not quite succeeding.

He peered inside the roll, angling for a better look. “I think the top ones are deeds to various properties.” Very gingerly, he moved the sheets aside, using only one finger. “I can’t see it all, but I think the bottom one’s a will—maybe
the
will. It’s dated five years ago.”

“We’ve got it!”

Myka jumped into his arms and he twirled her around while Bear barked.

“We did it—you and me!” she said.

“We’re one heckuva team,” he said. “Maybe fate’s telling us something.” Tilting her chin upward, he took her mouth slowly and thoroughly.

His kiss tantalized her, enveloping her in a warmth that left her tingling. She didn’t want it to stop, but she pulled back and said, “We better go.” Then she stepped out of his embrace.

Every day that passed took him closer to a destiny that didn’t include her. The knowledge cut deeply. Trying not to let him see what was on her mind, she did her best to focus on the papers. “We have to find someone who can help us figure out how to flatten and read these documents without damaging them.”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “We don’t have to rush off, Myka. Stay here with me a little longer.” His voice was deep, his words seductive, and the fire in his eyes inescapable.

“No,” she whispered, taking another step back. The more tempting the warmth of the fire, the easier it was to get burned. “You’re going to be leaving too soon as it is. Let’s not do anything we’ll regret.”

“Like walking away?” he pressed, holding her gaze. “I love you, Myka, haven’t you figured that out by now?”

“Yes, and that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” She swallowed hard. If things had only been different, she would have stepped back into his arms and told him how she felt, too, but she couldn’t change what was.

Myka turned away quickly and headed to the door. When it came time for him to leave, as she’d always known he would, her heart would break into a thousand pieces. The closer they were, the worse it would be.

Her instinct for self-preservation urged her to go, but if she was doing the right thing, why did it hurt so much?

Afraid she’d change her mind and move into his arms again, she hurried outside, back to the real world and away from what could never be.