[Desert Roses 03] - Beneath A Harvest Sky (25 page)

“I’m afraid Jennetta has the night completely planned out. Could we meet at breakfast?”

Rainy shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. It really isn’t that important. I’ll catch up with you sometime.” She reached in to pull out the suitcase she’d often seen Jennetta carry. It felt incredibly light. In fact, if Rainy didn’t know better, she would have thought it was empty.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” Phillip pleaded.

“I didn’t mean for last night to turn ugly. I was very upset that you got hurt.”

Rainy put the case on the ground and looked into Phillip’s warm expression. “You could have been more supportive,” she said, though she had not intended to be drawn into a conversation.

“I know and I’m sorry.”

Rainy nodded. “You’re forgiven. I hope you have a wonderful time this evening.”

“Come with us.”

Rainy saw Sonny give her a raised eyebrow, but he remained silent as he pulled the last of the bags from the car. “I’m busy, Phillip. You know how it is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure everyone got checked in without any trouble.”

She left him looking rather dumbstruck. Maybe he thought this was just a game she was playing, but Rainy had little interest in such forms of entertainment. A game was more Jennetta’s speed. Jennetta—who was already planning for Rainy and Phillip to marry.

Jennetta
.

Rainy’s thoughts went back to the empty suitcase.

Was it really empty, and if so, why? The idea of the missing artifacts came to mind. Rainy felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. She stopped midstep and looked back through the doorway at the touring car. She felt as if she held all the clues to a great mystery, but they were out of order and, as such, made no sense.

“Hello, Rainy.”

She whirled around to find Duncan. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled and it seemed to light up his whole face.

His wavy black hair looked windblown and his dark eyes seemed to assess her with extreme interest.

“I had a tour,” he explained. “I wondered if you’d like to join me for dinner tonight. My mother is a great cook, and she’s promised wonderful beef roast and fresh bread.”

Rainy lost her thoughts of Jennetta and nodded.

“That sounds wonderful. Do I have time to freshen up?”

He grinned. “You look fresh enough, but of course. Dinner isn’t for another hour.”

Sonny trudged into the lobby with the last of the luggage. Duncan immediately offered his help, but Sonny waved him off.

“I’ve got these things stacked just so,” Sonny said.

“I’m going to deliver them, take a bath, and go to bed.

I’m bushed.”

Sonny mastered the stairs in short order, and only after he’d disappeared from sight did Rainy turn her attention back to Duncan. Before she could speak, however, a woman’s shrill laughter filled the air. Phillip Vance came in from the street with a woman on each arm. Both of his companions wore heavy makeup and tight dresses that seemed to accentuate their every curve. Phillip leaned first one way and then the other as the women whispered in his ears. He laughed at their comments, then ushered the women upstairs.

Rainy had no idea where they were headed or why.

The entire scene just made her glad she had determined to remove herself from Phillip’s influence.

Looking to Duncan, she found him with an expression that suggested sympathy.

“Oh, Duncan. Why can’t more men be like you?”

————

Duncan watched Rainy with intense interest as his mother asked her question after question about her work for the touring company.

“I’ve loved being able to share history with people who generally have no clue about the Southwest. The tourists, or ‘dudes,’ as we call them, often come out here with this image of the Wild West and of Indians and cowboys shooting it out over the next hill. I’ve heard women worry over having the windows of the cars down for fear an Indian arrow might come through and kill them all.”

“Oh my,” Joanna Hartford declared. “You would think they would know better.”

Rainy smiled. “You would think so, but I’m always amazed at the general lack of knowledge and understanding. One woman tourist we had stood in the midst of several Indian children and asked me if they would bite her if she were to stroke their black hair.”

Rainy’s facial expression changed to one that showed sadness over the memory. “I told the woman they were children, not wild animals, and she reprimanded me, saying that everyone with even the tiniest bit of education knew they were savages.”

Duncan’s father nodded. “I’ve encountered that attitude many a time. It’s the same mentality that says the Indian cannot be saved for eternity because they have no soul.”

Rainy shook her head. “How can people be so blind? I truly had hoped that the Detours would help people better understand the Indians. I have friendships that span across several tribes and those have been hard made—simply because of attitudes like that.”

“Father has endured the same problems gaining the trust of the Indians as he works to share his faith with them,” Duncan threw in.

“I admire what you do here,” Rainy said, pushing around a piece of roast with her fork, “but do you ever feel it’s much too little—too late?”

Lamont Hartford laughed in a deep hearty manner. Duncan knew his father had been asked this question many a time. He watched his father’s dark eyes narrow slightly as he sobered. “Do you believe,” he asked, “that God’s timing is ever too late?”

Rainy smiled. “I’ve wondered that very thing from time to time, but I don’t really think His timing is ever too late.” She glanced at Duncan, her cheeks reddening slightly. Duncan immediately thought of her desire for a husband and family. “I often feel that God is delayed in answering my prayers,” she continued, “but from my own upbringing and growing faith, I know that isn’t the case. Sometimes, however, I wish He would hurry things along for my sake.”

Duncan’s father smiled and nodded. “I’ve wished it often myself. I can’t blame you for your desires, but

I would encourage you to trust that He has your best interest in mind.”

————

The weeks passed by and then a month and then nearly two, and still Duncan found himself remembering the details of the dinner at his parents’ house.

Rainy had come dressed in a simple dress of pale lavender. She’d pinned her hair up and Duncan thought it looked very fetching, but he longed to see it down, flowing across her shoulders to her waist.

Rainy had treated his parents as though she’d known them for years.

After he’d returned home from walking Rainy to her hotel, Duncan’s mother had commented that Rainy seemed to be a very special young woman and that God clearly had His mark on her. Duncan’s father had also noted his complete approval of such company for Duncan. Both of his parents encouraged Duncan to share his feelings about Rainy, but he wasn’t yet ready to speak on the matter.

Now, as the summer months melted away, Duncan felt a sense of frustration in that he hadn’t seen much of Rainy. She and Sonny had been quite caught up with their courier duties, and rumor had it that both planned to resign their positions at the end of the month. Duncan worried that Rainy planned to move to Scotland with her parents. He wanted very much to talk to her and let her know his feelings, but it seemed they were never in Santa Fe together. Today he’d been told over the lunch hour that Rainy would be in town that night. She was to have the next day off and

Duncan decided he would use the time to his advantage.

He knocked on the front door of Rainy’s boardinghouse and waited, with card in hand. He had decided he would leave an invitation for Rainy to join him for dinner. He knew her routine would bring her home before she headed off for supper. Rainy had mentioned more than once that she absolutely had to wash off the day’s dust before sitting down to enjoy a meal.

“Sí?” the heavyset Mexican woman who answered the door questioned.

“I’d like to leave this note for Rainy Gordon. Would you please see that she gets it?”

The woman nodded and took the envelope. “You are Mr. Vance, the movie star who sent the flowers?”

Her words stabbed at Duncan even while her smile stretched from ear to ear.

“No, I’m not Mr. Vance. I’m Duncan Hartford. We work together—sort of.”

The woman’s smile faded. “Sí, I will give her the letter.”

“Thank you.” Duncan desired nothing more than to get away from the woman and avoid any more questions. He tried to console himself with the fact that at least Phillip hadn’t come calling here at the boardinghouse— at least Duncan figured he hadn’t. Wouldn’t the woman have known he wasn’t Vance otherwise?

Still, just the thought of her delighted expression when she thought he was Vance gave Duncan cause for worry.

Hours later, Duncan was not at all pleased to find himself once again face-to-face with Mr. Richland from the Office of Indian Affairs. The matter of stolen artifacts was definitely not the kind of thing he wanted to give his attention to when the supper hour was so close at hand and visions of Rainy in her lavender dress kept coming to mind. No, he’d much rather go find Rainy and share a meal than sit here and listen to Richland tell him how guilty the Gordons were.

“Three important brass statues disappeared from Taos while the Gordons were there with their tourists,” Richland began.

“But the time you’ve outlined proved to have other tours there as well. My tour group was there and so was at least one other group that I know of,” Duncan offered. “Could have been more.”

“Be that as it may, there were no thefts for over two months—including the two weeks Miss Gordon was on vacation.”

“So you’re still determined to blame the Gordons for this?”

Richland looked down his nose at Duncan. His expression seemed pinched, almost pained. “I’m determined to arrest the guilty parties and put a stop to this nonsense. The other driver and courier we were considering prior to this have both resigned and gone elsewhere to work. The Gordons remain, and now the stealing has begun again.”

Duncan had hoped Richland’s recent lack of communication meant that the matter was resolved or at least put aside for lack of evidence, but he supposed he should have known that the problem was not resolved since he was still driving for the Detours. “As I mentioned to you before, you might want also to consider the fact that in each of the tours where articles have disappeared over the last few months, the Detour passengers in the Gordons’ care have been the same. Or they have been connected in some way.”

“We considered it but find that it’s not relevant.”

Duncan pushed down his anger. “Of course it’s relevant. You have chosen to blame the Gordons because they had the opportunity to perform the thefts. I’m saying they weren’t the only ones who have had the opportunity. You can hardly rush in accusing and arresting with nothing more than this.”

“I think perhaps you’ve gotten too close to this, Mr. Hartford. You don’t seem to be willing to look at the facts. Perhaps your usefulness has reached its limits.”

“I never set out to be a part of this to begin with.

You came to me. The Gordons are my friends, and I won’t see them falsely accused.” Duncan raised his hand. “Hear me out. I’ve seen some strange things, things that suggest that perhaps Jennetta Blythe and her brother, Phillip Vance, are to blame for the disappearance of the artifacts.”

Richland leaned forward. “Why do you say this?”

“I saw Jennetta showing off a piece that very well could have been one of the ceremonial flutes. I couldn’t get a good look at the item, however. Then I overheard Phillip Vance comment on the original oils he took back to Los Angeles. It seems very likely that the missing Taos paintings could be the very oils to which he was referring.”

Richland suddenly looked interested. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his chin. “All right. So let’s say that’s a possibility. What do you suggest we do about it? You can hardly expect me to rush ahead and have Phillip Vance arrested. The man is famous. It would be in all the newspapers before we could even determine if the paintings were the ones we were looking for. We have been good about cooperating with the various companies involved to keep this quiet.

Charging Vance would eliminate any hope of continuing that silence.”

“I realize that,” Duncan admitted. “That’s why I propose to set a trap for them. I’ve talked to my superiors here, and they have agreed to cooperate. I suggest I talk privately with Jennetta Blythe. I’ll talk to her brother as well if he’s in town. I will tell them that I have a variety of articles here at the museum that I would be willing to sell to the highest bidder. I could even make something up about the history of the pieces and such.”

“The museum would put actual artifacts at risk?”

“No, the pieces would be insignificant pieces made to look like the real thing. I can replicate them well enough that Mr. Vance and his sister won’t be any wiser. If they take the bait, then you can let the charade play out. I’ll sell them the pieces and you can arrest them with the items in hand.”

Richland shook his head. “But that wouldn’t work.

The pieces wouldn’t be authentic, and proving the intent to purchase stolen goods would be difficult.

They could just as easily say that they knew the pieces were of no significance and that you had assured them they were legally for sale—perhaps even out of your own private collection. No, if you can get the museum to agree to put genuine artifacts at risk, then perhaps it might work, but otherwise I cannot agree to this.”

“But you have to admit that these circumstances do raise questions. When I was with the Gordons, I watched them every step of the way—I barely slept in order to keep a continuous eye on them. Jennetta Blythe and her brother have had every opportunity to slip around unnoticed. If found in areas where they shouldn’t be, they could easily have feigned ignorance or being lost. I think the situation is such that you should have someone follow them and keep track of their activities.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I’ll take you off of watching the Gordons and have you watch this Blythe woman instead.”