Perfect Family (11 page)

“When horses sprout wings and fly.”

“Just be pleasant.”

“I'll show up. I can't promise more than that.”

She gave him an anguished look before starting for the door.

“I'll try,” he said, uttering a curse under his breath when she turned around and beamed at him. He didn't want to be a part of this, none of it.

He shaved quickly, and ran a comb through his unruly hair. Didn't really matter. It would be unmanageable again. It was coarse and straight and kept falling over his eyes. He hated taking time to get a haircut, and now he'd let it grow too long.

But there were far more important matters. Like a job. He would never find another position like this one. He had chosen a quickly shrinking career field. There was no demand for ranch managers, particularly one who had his own way of doing things.

The family had left him alone as long as the Sunset was making money. But profits had shrunk, along with the price of beef, in the past few years. And meanwhile, the price of land near Sedona had grown proportionally greater. He'd responded by diversifying. The price of good cutting horses had risen dramatically in the past few years. But it took years to build a recognized stable that would bring the prices he needed.

Two more years. Just two more years.

But the family wasn't willing to wait.

The family!
Damn them. All but Sarah. He owed her. God, he owed her his life.

And he knew he would do anything necessary to repay her.

Jessie saw Ross Macleod and immediately knew who he was.

Alex had parked the car near the corral. A man she hadn't seen before lounged against a fence post, talking to a very pretty woman dressed in a sky-blue silk blouse and tailored dark-blue slacks. She was looking up at her companion, and Jessie heard her laughter.

For a moment her gaze lingered on the woman. She was blond, like the congressman. Jessie couldn't see her eyes, but she would bet a twenty that they were blue. Her gaze moved to the man. In contrast to the well-dressed woman, he was dressed in well-worn jeans and a faded blue shirt with its sleeves rolled up. His skin was bronze. She realized that it was not altogether from the sun.

She was struck by his resemblance to David Macleod, Sarah's husband. The way he leaned against the corral was identical to the photo of his adoptive father. His mouth was the same, and so were the deep-set eyes. His cheeks, though were more finely drawn, more angular.
He was adopted
. Then why the physical resemblance? More secrets?

Like David Macleod, this man's hair was dark, nearly black. A shock of it fell over his forehead, and she watched as his fingers ran through it, pushing it back in place. Even that movement had a grace to it, a quality common to good horsemen. He was not handsome in the accepted way, but there was a rugged attractiveness that appealed to her. More than appealed to her. It jolted her like a sudden streak of lightning.

“That's Ross,” Alex said, touching her arm. She wondered if she'd looked as starstruck as she felt. She felt a flush rising to her cheeks. “And April. She's Marc's daughter.”

Something intimate touched his words. She turned and looked at him, wondering if he had an interest there. She felt his hand guiding her toward the two. April appeared to be close to her own age, but looked as elegant as a film star. Her blond hair was pulled back into a French twist. Her face had the bone structure of a Grace Kelly.

The woman turned toward them, fixing her gaze on Jessie. Her eyes
were
blue, a gorgeous unfair blue. Jessie suddenly felt awkward and tall and not very well put together.

But the woman gave her a blinding smile and held out her hand. “You must be Jessica, our long-lost cousin.”

Her charm was every bit the equal of Alex's. Jessie couldn't help but melt under the force of it as she took April's hand. “We're not sure of that yet,” she cautioned.

“Sarah is sure and that's good enough for me,” April said. “So welcome to the family.” Then she looked up at her companion. “Have you met our recluse yet?” she asked in a light, teasing voice.

Jessie looked up into Ross Macleod's face and suddenly was tongue-tied. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair, a deep dark brown framed by thick black lashes. Unlike the other Clementses, there was no welcome in them, not even curiosity. If anything, she saw traces of hostility, and most certainly wariness.

He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Miss … Clayton, is it?” His voice was deep, drawling but devoid of warmth.

“Jessie,” she said. It came out more of a croak.

“How do you like Sedona?” April broke the silence that followed.

“It's very pretty,” Jessie said inadequately, then blundered on. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“I understand you live in Atlanta. It's an exciting city.” April was doing her best to make her feel at ease, and yet Jessie felt like a lump of coal. Perhaps because Ross Macleod was studying her as if she were a horse he might consider buying, then found it wanting.

“I like it,” she finally said.

“Daddy said you ride. Would you like to take some horses out this afternoon? I can show you some rather spectacular Indian ruins. Maybe even the bear here will go.” She looked up at Ross again, a grin on her face.

One side of Ross's lips turned up slightly, bringing out an unlikely dimple in his chin. Perhaps it had been hidden in his scowl. “The bear?”

“The bear,” April confirmed, obviously not at all intimidated by his manner.

Jessie suddenly wished she could tease out a real smile. Instead, she could merely observe.

Ross turned to her, and she felt her legs suddenly weaken. Again, his eyes seemed to probe her. “Perhaps Alex can accompany you later. I have a horse that's ready to foal. I don't want to leave now.”

“You always have an excuse,” April complained, and for the first time some of the charm was gone. “Oh well, we don't need a chaperon.”

Alex's fingers tightened on Jessie's arm. It was an outright rejection of him. Jessie felt a sudden wave of sympathy. “I would like him to come,” she said, gratified when she saw appreciation in Alex's eyes and surprise in Ross's. Something like irritation flashed across April's face, but then it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“We'll go at sunset,” April said. “It's the prettiest time of the day.”

Ross seemed about to say something, then turned away. “I'll have some horses saddled.”

“I want Ladybird,” April said. She turned to Jessie. “Do you ride well?”

Jessie hesitated. She hadn't ridden since she was seventeen, but then she could ride nearly any horse. She shrugged. “Adequately,” she said.

April looked toward Ross. “Maybe Jessica would like Firebird. He's Ladybird's brother. He's fast and steady.”

“No,” Ross said. “I'll pick one.” He nodded to Jessie, then strode off toward the barn.

“Charming as a rattlesnake,” Alex muttered.

April's gaze followed Ross Macleod. Jessie couldn't help but notice the longing in her face before turning back to them.

“I'm hungry,” April said lightly. “Come on, Jessica, I'll introduce you to the latecomers.”

Alex watched Sarah take Jessica under her wing again, regaling her with stories familiar to him: how Hall Clements came to the area with his parents just after the last of the Apaches and Yavapai had been driven out by General Crook. Apache crops of squash, beans, and corn proved that the soil was fertile.

Like a handful of other pioneers, Hall's father had been seduced by Oak Creek Canyon and the majestic red rocks. He'd found a piece of land beside a creek and planted crops; within two years his wife died of a rattlesnake bite and he was killed a year later by a bear. Hall had been only fourteen, but he had stayed on the land they homesteaded, doing a man's work. Because he was a hardworking lad, and well-liked as well, no one had made a point of telling authorities.

He'd married at twenty-five, but his first wife and child died in childbirth. Brokenhearted, he waited ten years to wed again, this time to a strong determined young woman he met in St. Louis. She, so the story went, was sturdy enough to survive the hardships of frontier life. Mary Louise more than fulfilled his expectations. Practical in many ways, she'd loved her husband desperately, knowing that she had escaped being an old maid by his unromantic proposal. It was Mary Louise who started calling the ranch the Sunset, a name that forever replaced Hall's plain-spoken Double R Ranch, which remained on the deeds.

They had grown old together. Mary Louise died first, but prior to her death she'd insisted on the terms of Hall's will. She'd wanted two things: to keep the Sunset in the family, and to keep the family together.

Alex watched the rapt look on Jessica's face. She was being seduced by the family history, just as Sarah knew she would. The stories were many and for someone like Jessica, who'd never had much of a family, probably irresistible.

He looked around for Marc, but he had not yet arrived. God knew everyone would be aware of his presence the moment he appeared. He seemed to expect it and usually took care in making an entrance, even when it involved only his family. April, whom Alex knew had been told to keep Jessica busy, had disappeared. Probably to the barn.

He swore under his breath. He hadn't seen April in six months, the last time at Christmas. She'd been angry then, and she apparently hadn't forgiven him. The reason had been the same: Ross.

She'd always hankered after Ross, probably, he thought, because he was the one man who'd never paid sufficient attention to her. At least, that was what he'd told himself. He thought perhaps if he tried the same tactic …

He thought about intruding on Sarah and Jessica, but hell, that was Marc's problem.

He turned around and headed for the door. He had other business in town.

six

The ranch house was pulsing with life late that afternoon. Jessie was beginning to put names and faces together. Perhaps the Duchess would always be the Duchess, but she was also Samantha Clements. Twins Hugh and Heath were Tweedledee and Tweedledum, but they were also Hugh and Heath.

A guitar player wandered about outside, and the aroma of cooking meat infiltrated every nook and cranny of the ranch. The sun was golden, the sky a deep royal blue, the land radiant. She not only heard laughter, but was part of it.

It was a giddy feeling. Every one of her senses had gone into high gear. She soaked up the history, the ambience, the warmth. She found herself reveling in the stories, the history of an intriguing family. And for the first time in her life she was the belle of the ball, and she was enjoying every moment of it.

She hugged the moments to herself, cataloging them in a mental scrapbook. She wished she had a camera, but she hadn't thought to bring one in the unnerving days after Alex's first visit.

Supper was going to be served on a long table that had mysteriously appeared in the front yard. She didn't see Alex. Nor did she see Ross. But April came over to her, bringing with her a young man who looked considerably like the senator.

“My kid brother, Hall,” April said, ducking a teasing blow from her sibling. Another name with an H. Hall appeared to be in his early twenties, and he had a reckless gleam in his eyes. Now which Wonderland character was he?
The Cheshire Cat?
No, that was Alex.

“My father is delighted with you,” Hall said. “You'd better watch out. He'll enlist you in his campaign like he has everyone else in the family.”

“Everyone but Ross,” April interjected.

“Ross doesn't count,” Hall said. His voice dismissed his cousin with something like contempt. Jessie's back went rigid. She wondered whether she didn't count, either.

“He means that Ross doesn't care about politics,” April said hurriedly, shooting a warning look at her brother.

“Of course.” Hall recovered nicely, but his blue eyes were cool.

Jessie felt a chill run through her. For an instant, she felt she was an unsuspecting participant in a play produced just for her. Her gaze wandered around the room. Knots of people were talking, laughing. There
was
warmth. A sense of belonging. She brushed the unsettling thought aside.

“Where's your father?”

“He's attending a festival in Phoenix,” April said. “He's flying back later this afternoon. He wouldn't miss this supper. He's the one who started these reunions about twenty years ago. The family seemed to be growing apart, spreading out throughout the country. He didn't want that to happen. He even wrote a book about the family history.”

That surprised Jessie. Marc Clements appeared to be one of those people with too much energy to devote time to such a sedentary project as writing a book. “I'd like to read it.”

“I'll get you a copy,” April promised, “though Aunt Sarah has probably told you most of the good stuff.”

Jessie wondered why Sarah had not mentioned the book, nor given her a copy, since she'd insisted on Jessie's taking the photograph album.

Hall was regarding her with amusement, and she wondered whether her thoughts were mirrored on her face. “You haven't heard about it? Well, Sarah wasn't exactly pleased. She said it had been expunged of all the good stuff, that Dad was using the family to help himself.”

April frowned at her brother again, as if any criticism of their father were heresy. Jessie had thought earlier she'd detected some tension between Marc and Sarah. She wondered whether the book was responsible for it. Sarah had seemed to take pleasure in telling family stories—good and bad. All except Harding's disappearance. Jessie wondered what the congressman's tome had to say about that. She didn't think she would wait until someone sent it to her; she would check the library first thing. And the newspapers.

“April says you like horses,” Hall said.