Perfect Family (6 page)

Later, of course, she'd learned to ride. Her father hadn't taught her. An exercise boy had. It was the one time she remembered pleasing her father, the first time he had watched her ride around the track at twelve. He said she had a natural seat and good hands, and eventually she'd become an exercise girl herself.

Jessie replaced the horse on the mantel, and the memories in the attic of her mind. Too much had been dredged up today. Too many emotions. Too many memories.

She thought about Alex Kelley. She sensed there was much he had not told her, that he had picked carefully through information for what he wanted to say.

Sedona. She tried the sound on her tongue. Should it ring bells? Had her father ever let the name slip from his lips?

One of five brothers. And one brother died the day Harding Clements disappeared from Sedona. Had he witnessed his brother's death and that of his wife? And finally, the question that plagued her most. Had he had something to do with their deaths? She tried not to even entertain the thought, but it resounded in her mind. And in her heart.

She couldn't avoid the idea that going to Sedona might open a Pandora's box. That it
would
open one.

How many times, she wondered, had flies flown voluntarily into a spider's web?

Alex Kelley knew he had succeeded. He knew it when she consented to having breakfast with him.

He had wondered whether he should mention the possible inheritance. But he had wanted to take a measure of her first. And it was more difficult than he had thought.

Jessica Clayton had given away very little. And she seemed impervious to the charm that he'd cultivated. That had surprised and intrigued him.

Most people would have jumped at what he had offered. The fact that she'd not done so gave him pause.

Did she know more than she pretended?

Or had she just learned to keep her own counsel?

Her life must have been hell, according to the reports from the detective agency. A father who drank to excess, who hadn't been able to keep a job. The wonder was that he had left her anything at all, much less enough to send her through Emory. It was rumored he gambled heavily. On his own horses? Or on those running against his own horses? Harding was supposed to have been the brother with integrity. Until he disappeared, that is, leaving a number of suspicions behind.

Alex had been convinced by both the agency and Sarah that Jonathan Clayton was indeed Harding Clements. It was the others who demanded a DNA test. They were the ones who stood to lose millions of dollars.

He looked around his room. It was pleasant enough, and he was too tired to do anything but go to bed. The last month had been pure hell, and he was weary of twenty-hour workdays, but one of the companies he represented had been sued, and the case had come to court a week ago.

And Sarah had not been willing to wait. Not a week. Not a day. Too much depended on Jessica.

Perhaps he should have warned Miss Clayton. She would be walking right into the middle of a family feud.

He tossed his small bag on the bed, then took a quick shower. He couldn't get Jessica Clayton out of his mind. She was attractive but not a beauty by any means. Her eyes were by far her best feature: an intriguing hazel with golden flecks. They were wide with rich dark lashes framing them. Her short auburn hair was prettily tousled, and yet it was the haircut of someone who didn't overly fuss with it.

He liked her. No nonsense. No games. And she'd evidently been singularly unimpressed with him. He'd noted she'd not replenished her makeup while he went out for the pizza. It had been a bit demoralizing. He usually did very well with the opposite sex—mainly, he'd always thought, because he genuinely liked women. He came into contact with some very smart ones, and he'd known instantly that Jessica Clayton was one of those.

She had a steady gaze that probed, as well as a patience that waited for someone else to make a mistake before she did. It was a rare trait.

Sarah, he thought, would be pleased.

But would Jessica Clayton? Particularly when he introduced her to the volatile mix that was the current Clements family.

three

A
RIZONA

Jessie tortured herself with questions as the plane approached Phoenix. She already missed the safety of the bookstore, the comforting smell of leather binding, old paper, and even dust. She already missed Ben. Guilt ate at her every time she remembered the accusation in his eyes when she dropped him at Sol's house.

In the three years since she had found him wandering alongside a major highway, she hadn't left him with anyone. She had made him her family. He and Sol had been all she needed. Or so she had told herself.

She looked out the window. Not many trees, not at all like Atlanta. It was more like an alien landscape. Mountains rose out of nowhere, then reclined back into flat earth. A few scattered clumps of green broke an endless tan carpet.

Jessie sat back in the plush seat. She had certainly not expected a first-class seat when Alex said the family would provide the airfare. But she had never flown that way before, and she enjoyed every moment of being pampered. Alex had also said she would be met by someone and driven up to Sedona, but she had insisted on renting a car. She wanted the independence of her own transportation.

The freedom to escape
.

She really wanted to do that at this very moment.

She recalled the breakfast meeting with Alex Kelley. He'd added little real information about the circumstances of Harding Clements's disappearance, which was really what she wanted. Instead, he discussed the various relatives she would meet. Foremost, in his estimation, was Sarah, who was seventy-six, and the matriarch of the family. She had an adopted son, Ross, who ran the ranch.

Then there was Halden, Sarah's brother and the oldest of the family. He was ninety-one, still mentally sharp but irascible. He had two living children—sons. One was a congressman preparing to run for the U.S. Senate, the other a banker who was also the owner of the resort where she would stay. Alex had also mentioned a number of others, insisting they were all eager to meet her.

Why? Why would they try so hard to find, and meet, someone they had never known?

A nagging doubt persisted that something far more than a family trying to find a lost sheep could be in play. But then maybe it was all the books she read. She'd fantasized since she was a child and found comfort in the nearest library, especially when her father was on one of his drunken binges. She'd fantasized that she was part of the novel she read—the beautiful princess, the dashing hero whom everyone loved and admired, or the little lost girl reunited with loving parents. The books were her private world and when she didn't have one, she'd made up stories in her head.

She told herself she was making one up now.

And what better scenario than the one that had presented itself just a few weeks ago? A handsome lawyer. A new family. A ranch in Arizona. The only thing missing was being an heiress.

She looked at the book in her lap. She always had one with her, but for one of the few times in her life she hadn't been able to read. She wished the rumblings of apprehension would fade. If the visit worked out, then fine. If it didn't, well, then she hadn't lost anything. Except the peace she'd worked so hard for, except for the crumbling of the barricades she'd wrapped around herself.

She kept telling herself she had an ally in Alex, but she wasn't even sure about that. She couldn't escape the feeling that he had withheld important pieces of the puzzle. The question was why.

Nonsense. She was just creating problems in her mind. She would enjoy this adventure, the chance to see a part of the country she'd always longed to visit. Perhaps she would even ride again. Her heart pounded faster at the idea. Life was stirring back in her body, in her heart.

And she wanted to learn more about Harding Clements. She wanted to know if her father had indeed hid his past, and why. She wanted to know what had caused the sadness in his eyes, the detachment in his heart.

The pilot came on the intercom and announced their approach into Phoenix. She looked at her watch. About three or four hours until she reached Sedona. Perhaps then she would learn answers to some of those questions.

Ross felt his gut turn somersaults. Everything he had worked so goddamn hard for was at risk. But he tried to submerge those feelings now. Horses sensed turmoil, uncertainty. Particularly skittish youngsters like this one.

He snapped the rope in his hands.
Keep the colt going. Keep him at an easy trot around the ring
. By the end of the day, if he had no interruptions, the colt would be broken to saddle. Then the tedious work began. But it was work he loved.

How much longer would he have it?

The youngster had slowed. Ross moved, snaking out the rope, pushing the colt to speed his pace.

Keep your attention on the animal, dammit
. His mind kept wandering, though, to the command performance he had to attend tonight. He'd tried to squirm out, but Sarah had made it quite clear he was expected to attend.

He hated the biannual reunions. He'd always felt like an outsider, an interloper, a fraud. For various reasons, mostly Sarah, he had stayed at the Sunset long past the time he'd known it wise to go. Now he had his entire life invested in it. He'd almost come to think of it as home. The only real home he'd ever had. And yet he'd also realized he never really belonged here.

That knowledge had been a burr under his skin. God only knew he'd fought establishing an attachment to this land. To Sarah. He'd always believed it would be jerked away, just as so many other things had been. But now the Sunset was in his blood, the land his very soul, the horses his future. And the whole damn thing was about to be pulled out from under him.

And by an outsider just like him. Yet that outsider had the blood he could not claim
.

The colt was quickly tiring. A few more rounds and he would halter the youngster, then allow him to grow used to the saddle. No violent confrontations between man and beast, merely a subtle building of trust between them, of understanding as to which was dominant.

Ross loved these sessions in the round pen. He enjoyed it far more than the spring and fall roundups of the cattle, and certainly more than the paperwork, especially that involved in leasing so much government land for grazing. Cattle, particularly in this country, were becoming a losing proposition. The value of a good cutting horse, though, was spiraling upward for reasons best not dwelt upon. What little profit the ranch produced now came from the horses. He wanted to enlarge the program, but he couldn't as long as the fate of the ranch hung on such slender threads.

Its immediate sale would bring millions to the Clementses, not just a promise of later profits.

But how could anyone even consider selling a legend?

He looked up at the red mountains in the distance. God, he loved them. He loved their secrets. The thought of turning this land into small lots made him physically ill.

The colt snorted, aware again of his lack of attention. Ross spoke softly, calming him, then approached with confidence, always keeping to the side or front. He slipped the lariat around the animal's head, waited as the youngster tested it, then stood quietly. “Good boy,” he soothed.

The animal tossed his head but stood quietly as Ross placed a saddle pad on the horse's back. The horse bucked slightly at the unfamiliar object, then stilled again. After several more rounds, Ross saddled him and started him around the ring again, allowing him to become accustomed to carrying the weight.

He forced all his concentration on the animal, a buckskin with all the breeding, instincts, and natural moves of a champion cutting horse. Several such animals, and he could name his own prices for Sunset horses.

After several hours, the horse was accustomed to the rope, and the saddle.
The moment of truth was here
. He slowly lifted himself into the saddle. The horse danced nervously for a moment, then quieted, and Ross felt the supreme satisfaction of accomplishment. With a touch of Ross's heels, the horse circled the ring.

Ross tried to concentrate, but his mind kept returning to thoughts of the god-awful party tonight.

He heard Timber bark behind him. Even the dog was reminding him he was running late. The animal was uncanny. “Be patient, Timber,” he said, and the dog lay down, putting his head between his front paws. Timber always knew what he was thinking. He might have looked like a hound from hell, but the part-wolf, part-dog mixture was the smartest animal he'd ever trained.

Timber didn't care if his master was charming.

But Sarah sure as hell did. She'd pleaded with him to be charming.

He grimaced at the thought. Hell, he didn't know a damn thing about being charming. He didn't care to know.

He would leave that up to Alex.

The ride up to Sedona was fascinating. Spectacular. If only all the
if
s didn't eat at her. If only her stomach hadn't turned into a South American forest full of butterflies. She drank in the vistas, the saguaro and other varieties of cactus. It was a world apart from the lush forests she knew. An alien world but beautiful in its own stark way.

She sped by places called Deadman's Creek and Sunset Point and Black Canyon, longing to stop and explore the small winding roads that led to those intriguing-sounding locations. But she was committed to a party tonight, a welcoming get-together.

An inspection, she feared. An inspection she was sure to fail. She was only too aware of her limited wardrobe. She'd bought several silk blouses and one elegant pantsuit for the trip. She'd added a skirt and several pairs of slacks from her own wardrobe. Inadequate, she thought, for one of the premier ranching families in Arizona, but she wasn't willing to pretend she was something she was not. Nor spend a fortune doing it.

She didn't have an awe of politicians or of wealth, having seen too much of both on the horse farms. She was, instead, wary of anyone with inherited wealth. She had believed herself in love with one young scion of a wealthy family, and he'd turned out to be both vicious and duplicitous. Since then, she'd been reluctant to trust many people. But she wanted to trust Alex Kelley. She really wanted it.