What We Find (23 page)

So here we are
. Four and a half months ago she’d felt she had lost everything. She’d thought she had nothing. No one. No one but Sully. And even Sully, she’d thought, hadn’t really wanted her. And no one needed her. Oh, there had been patients but she was hardly the only neurosurgeon.

Almost five months later her biggest discovery was that she wanted it
all.
She wanted her fathers, her dippy mother, a husband or at least a full-time partner. And a child. She wanted that child she felt had been taken from her. She wanted a full home life—and she wanted to practice again. She wanted to pull her salad out of the garden but also to go to excellent restaurants now and then. She wanted everything. There would have to be compromises, but she’d figure that out.

Who was that husband going to be? It was not going to be Andrew; that relationship was far behind her. But was there any way to convince California Jones he’d be happy with her? She had the slightly paranoid fear she was a placeholder and that he hadn’t yet decided what his life would look like in the future.

As she drove into the campground, she came upon the strangest sight. There were people on the porch of the store, the porch of the house, and several were sitting in cars. And Stan’s big SUV police cruiser was parked between a huge bull and the store. There were a couple of turned-over picnic tables, a collapsed tent and a healthy dent in the police cruiser.

“Maggie, stay in the car!” Stan’s voice boomed over his loudspeaker.

There, in the grassy area between the store and the campsites, the bull was grazing lazily. But it was very clear that before he settled down to lunch, he’d scared everyone half to death.

She looked at the ceiling of her car. “When I said
all
, I wasn’t counting on this!”

Come forth into the light of things,
let nature be your teacher.

—William Wordsworth

Chapter 15

Colorado was an open-range state. That meant the cattle roamed where
they would, though ranchers took some measures to keep their herds segregated. The lake and the campgrounds and homes around the lake were surrounded by cattle ranches and grazing land. The entire valley was cattle land with a little silage farming for feed. If you didn’t want cows in your yard you had to fence yourself in, and that included public roads, lands and parks. Though it wasn’t a daily issue, there were times a piece of fence was down and cattle wandered onto the roads and highways, into parks and yards.

Ranchers usually kept closer tabs on their bulls, especially if they were a little testy, as this one was.

Maggie spied Cal on the porch and gave him a sheepish wave. He waved back.

She put her car in gear and oh-so-gently inched her way around the store to the rear entrance. Cal stepped out of the store onto the back porch and signaled to her that it was safe to get out of her car and come inside.

“Better stay indoors. You’re not dressed to try to outrun that bull,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her into the store.

“Where’s Sully?”

“Trying to keep everyone back. And don’t surprise him—he’s got the shotgun out.”

A little laugh escaped her. “What’s he going to do with a shotgun besides piss him off?”

“We’ve had that discussion. He said not to worry, that Stan has the big gun, but he’s not convinced Stan’s a better shot.”

“Lovely. Maybe they’ll have a shoot-out,” she said. She walked toward the front of the store, which was full of women and children. But the men and a couple of young women, it seemed, just couldn’t resist the porch. “Hi, Sully. That the Mitchells’ bull?”

“Yeah, and they’re taking their sweet goddamn time coming after him. I’m going to send them a bill. That goddamn bull had himself a party.”

“I thought that might be Cornelius. Anybody hurt?” she asked.

“Scraped knee or two. I think we’re all okay. Bet some folks’ll never trust this campground again.”

“Others will think it’s the best entertainment they’ve had,” Maggie said. And right then and there she decided.
I’m going to stay here, raise my family here
.

“Here she comes, about time,” Sully said. “I ought to load that bull with buckshot just for good measure. Can’t she keep an eye on her bull?”

“Watch this, Cal,” Maggie said. “You’re going to love it. When the truck and trailer pull in and park, get some of the kids up front to watch them wrangle Cornelius.”

A well-used truck, a big dually pulling a roomy trailer, pulled up alongside the bull. The driver, a young guy in a cowboy hat, gave them a wave. The passenger door on the other side opened and a young girl in tight jeans, boots and hat with long blond hair running in a braid down her back, came around the truck with a lead and a big harness. She stood for a minute in front of the bull, a hand on one hip, staring him down. The bull pawed at the ground twice and snorted meanly.

“Don’t start with me,” the girl said. She approached the big animal. He backed away. “Corny! That’s enough!”

The young man jumped out of the truck and opened up the trailer, putting down the ramp.

The bull stood still. He put his head down and the girl shook hers.

She attached the lead to a huge harness. “Come on, Corny. You’re in trouble.”

She led the enormous bull to the trailer. The bull went slowly. Calmly. When he was inside the girl jumped out and helped the young man close up the trailer. He ran to the driver’s side of the truck. He waved at Sully. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” he yelled. Then they pulled slowly away from the campground.

“What the—” Cal stuttered.

“She raised him from a calf,” Sully said. “Some nights she slept in the barn with him. His mother didn’t make it and Casey fed him from a bottle. She and a couple of the Mitchells can seem to manage him, but no one else. Don’t get the idea he’s safe—he’s a big, ornery bull. But he’s fathered half the herd and he takes orders from Casey Mitchell. She got a blue ribbon for him.”

“Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” Maggie said.

“He turned over two picnic tables. Stan was going to shoot him. People were running and screaming,” Cal said.

“Yeah, I didn’t say he wasn’t a troublemaker, but I don’t think he’s ever hurt anyone. I mean, if you get between Cornelius and a heifer when they’re courting, there could be trouble, but usually he just likes people out of his way and sometimes he likes to show off a little bit. He’s mostly a big spoiled baby with only one mommy and she’s a hundred-and-five-pound teenager,” Sully said.

Maggie grinned. “I told you you’d like it. Better than a magic trick, isn’t it? The truth, California—isn’t this the most awesome place?”

“Oh, awesome! Escaped Alzheimer patients, kidnappers, naked hikers and a crazy bull so far.”

“We’re just getting warmed up. Summer’s not over yet.”

* * *

It made Cal uncomfortable keeping things from Maggie, but it was the nature of his profession that all cases, no matter how small or large, were confidential. So, when she asked him why he was on his laptop so much the very next afternoon, he made up a small, partial lie. “Someone I met at the bookstore in Leadville was asking questions about Colorado law and I offered to help research. A good excuse to get a little more familiar with Colorado statutes.”

“Does she have a name?” Maggie wanted to know.

“
He
does, but I think I should keep that confidential. Just as you would keep a patient’s medical information confidential.”

“Hmm. It occurs to me that if we were both working we wouldn’t have much to talk about.”

He presented her with his finest lascivious grin. “I believe we will never run out of interesting and stimulating subject matter.”

Cal had told Tom to ask his ex-wife if she’d like to consult with an experienced defense attorney and if so, he would have to see her at once. The next day he called and said Becky was very anxious to talk to a good lawyer. Since Cal didn’t have an office, he made arrangements to go to Becky’s house.

Cal parked across the street from a nice-looking town house in a pleasant little neighborhood that backed up to a golf course. This was his first time in Aurora and clearly it was upscale, with lots of building going on, wide clean streets, impeccable landscaping and more than the average quotient of late-model SUVs and sports cars. Becky, Tom had told him, worked for a plastic surgeon in Aurora.

Aurora was not a cheap place to live.

He knocked on the door and she answered. “Hi, Becky. I’m Cal Jones.”

“Thanks for coming,” she said, opening the door for him.

His first impression was—
attractive
. The first thing he noticed was boobs. Yes, they were larger than average yet not obnoxiously so. Her crisp white blouse was open just enough to showcase her cleavage and those
ta-tas
were standing proud. Through the fabric of the blouse he could discern bra straps about the width of string. The bra was not capable of holding her up meaning, after four children, those thirty-six-year-old breasts had been enhanced.

Becky was casually dressed in denim capris and wedge-heeled sandals. Her red hair was pulled back in a demure clip and she wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup. She walked ahead of him to a sunny dining room.

“I made coffee and lemonade,” she said.

“A cup of coffee would be nice,” he said. “Black.”

She preferred lemonade and he waited for her to get settled. He had his laptop with him but he pulled out a simple tablet from his canvas bag. He told her a little about himself, that he’d been practicing law for ten years but the last year he’d been on leave, traveling, just kicking around. Then, mainly to see how she’d respond, he said, “I lost my wife to a long illness and needed time to adjust.”

She ran her thumb and forefinger up and down the icy glass of lemonade. Her nails were perfect. Her eyes were large and luminous. “I’m so, so sorry. She must’ve been very young.”

“My age. So, I don’t have an office and I haven’t had a firm in a year, but I’m licensed in Colorado.”

“Bless your heart,” she said, her eyes so soft and warm. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must be. You must miss her so much.”

“So, once you decide you want me to represent you, you can notify the DA’s office and I can pick up a copy of the police report. But first, maybe you should tell me what your expectations are.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, tucking a leg under herself, leaning an elbow on the table.

“What do you think I can do for you, Becky?”

“Hopefully you’ll keep me from going to jail,” she said. “It’s such a terrible, unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Shouldn’t you be expecting a fine? Maybe a fine and community service? It’s not typical for a jail sentence for soliciting.”

“I don’t dare take any chances and go without a lawyer,” she said. “The last time the judge said if it happened again, he’d give me ninety days.
That
was a misunderstanding! But I never had a chance to explain. I’ll lose my job and everything.”

“Everything?”

“Well, my income, my benefits. And people will know. The people at work, the family, probably the whole neighborhood. The kids...”

“Your arrest is a matter of public record,” he informed her.

“But why would anyone look?” she asked. She teared up, her blue eyes getting a little glassy.

A blue-eyed redhead? Well, they weren’t really blue, it was probably contacts, and was the red hair real? None of the four kids had red hair. She smoothed her hair over one ear and looked at him with those big blue eyes. And she slowly lowered her lids. A hand went gently to her throat.

“I was so careful.”

“Careful?”

“I’m not a prostitute. I’m more of an escort. There are a few men who come to town regularly and we go out, that’s all. Sometimes they’re a little lonely and need someone to talk to. It’s like performing a service. You know?”

“Becky, you don’t have to convince me of anything. Just tell me the facts because I’m going to find out the reason you were arrested. And it wasn’t for going out on a date or performing a service. How long have you been in this business?”

“The escort business?” she asked.

“Precisely,” he said, encouraging her.

Her graceful hands moved around as she talked, stroking the glass, touching a button, smoothing her napkin. Her tongue touched her lips and she blinked sometimes. But her mascara didn’t run.

“Business, yes. A friend I once worked with invited me to dinner with a couple of gentlemen from out of town. She was an escort. She said we’d be paid by the hour just to have dinner with these men and it was a lot of money. I can’t remember how much, but I think fifty dollars an hour or something. And when dinner was over, I just went home. I did that a few times. Then a couple of the gentlemen I’d been out with called me and asked me for a date and I said yes and they paid me—as if it was a paid date, just like before. I was thinking it was just an ordinary date—meet at the restaurant, have dinner, go home. I didn’t do any more than that for a long, long time. After a year or so, with a gentleman I happened to be quite fond of, it went further. But the money was the same so you see, I wasn’t selling my body. I was selling my time. I was a paid escort who made an adult decision to be more intimate with a client. Consenting adults.”

“I understand completely,” Cal said. “And you should know, the judge isn’t going to buy that.”

“Very narrow-minded of him, don’t you think?” she asked.

She’s throwing off pheromones like crazy
, Cal thought. And while she started out as pretty, she was growing beautiful. Sexy. She was very good at this—the way she talked, moved her hands, adjusted herself in the chair, her soft voice.

“What was different about this last time?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you what—I was tricked, that’s what. Something I hardly ever do because I just don’t have the time, I was going to meet a girlfriend for a drink. There were no gentlemen involved. I wasn’t meeting a man. While I was waiting in the bar a man took the stool two down and after he got his drink, he started to talk to me. He was very nice, very friendly, and he asked me if I wanted to go on a date and I said,
What kind of date?
Because I was waiting for a friend. And he said,
How about a short date to my room?
And I laughed at him and said that didn’t sound like a date. Dinner in a nice restaurant sounded more like a date, but unfortunately I was busy. And he said,
Well, if you changed your mind, what would something like that cost?
He was harassing me, annoying me. Like I’d ever go anywhere with someone that pushy. And I told him I didn’t have the first idea because I wasn’t about to go on a
date
to his hotel room. And he pushed and said,
But if you did? What would it cost?
And I said,
A lot! Hundreds and hundreds of dollars!
And he arrested me!”