Stripped Bare (26 page)

Peering through the cut glass window, I pushed open the red door and stepped into a wide entryway. The polished wood floor—maybe cherry or rose or whatever kind of wood—glowed with a coppery tone in the soft light cast by a massive Tiffany chandelier. I assumed it wasn't a real Tiffany lamp, but what do I know about decorating? From the entryway, the room opened into a wide expanse, with the focus drawn to a river stone fireplace and bank of windows. I suppose it looked over a hay meadow, but the night hid the view. The kitchen, which could have held my whole house, was separated from the living area by a wide island. The stainless steel appliances, with, God help me, a dishwasher and a refrigerator the size of Gibraltar, sparkled amid all the granite. Thick Navajo rugs were spread across the hardwood. The
Bonanza
-style ranch furniture went well with the beams that ran along the extra-tall ceilings. A set of stairs led from the right side of the living room. I assumed these would take you to opulent bedrooms.

I wasn't the least bit jealous of all this luxury. I couldn't picture myself living like this. Didn't want to try; not at all. Not one bit. My eyes rested on the refrigerator. But I could see where Ted might enjoy it.

The doorbell rang. Doorbell? I couldn't remember one home in the Sandhills that had a doorbell. I reached to open the door and noticed this had a lock, as well. Definitely not your typical Sandhills house.

I opened the door. “Come in.”

Baxter breezed in, gray as a cloud of toxic smoke, wearing his new jeans and boots. A leather vest and Western bolo tie completed his outfit. Money can't make you look good if you're a dorky cowboy dude.

He showed only slight surprise at me being there, gave a noncommittal nod, and walked past me into the living room. Without hiding it, he studied the house. In a scratchy voice he said, “Nice place.”

My nose twitched at the overpowering smell of rose potpourri. But not like real roses in a sun-drenched garden; more like the fake rose scent from those little pocket flower dolls Louise liked to buy for her daughters. I folded my arms and watched Baxter. Dad would jump all over me for not offering him coffee and setting out a plate of cookies.

He didn't seem inclined to be sociable, and I felt particularly owly so we stood in awkward silence.

Roxy swept down the stairs and into the room. “Mr. Baxter! Glenn. Can I call you that? We're informal here in the country.”

Jesus.

She'd changed from her jeans and cleavage-baring sweater to a knee-length denim skirt, cowboy boots with complicated tooling and red and turquoise leather, and, of course, a plunging shirt covered with a beaded Indian vest. It didn't take great investigative skills to notice fresh lipstick and maybe a spruced-up curl or two in her big hair.

Baxter's slick smile screamed arrogance. “Only if I may call you Roxy. This is a lovely home.”

She basked in the praise. “I'm sure you're used to much bigger and better than this.”

He surveyed the room with pleasure. “Bigger maybe; not better. You have excellent taste.” He sat on the leather couch she indicated. “But it might be wasted, hidden up here in the middle of nowhere.”

Here we go.

She preened like the prettiest chicken in the henhouse. “I don't get many visitors, that's true.”

He leaned forward slightly, a technique my psych text said showed sincerity. “I don't mean to take up too much of your time, so I'll get to the reason for my visit.”

Roxy adopted her serious face. “Please. We don't need to beat around the bush.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes. “My deepest sympathies on the death of your father-in-law.” Saccharin dripped from his voice.

Roxy drew her chin down. “Eldon's passing has created a problem for you, hasn't it, Glenn?”

He sighed. “You've got me there. I've been working pretty hard to put this deal together. It all hinges on the Bar J and the agreement I had with Eldon.”

Roxy tilted her head. “I must admit, that surprises me. Eldon loved this ranch.”

Baxter nodded. “True. But he confessed to me that he didn't think it'd be an appropriate life for his granddaughter. He wanted her to have money, to make sure she'd always be taken care of.”

Now that was the biggest load of wet horse apples I'd ever heard. If Roxy bought that, I'd be first in line to sell her a beach cabana in Fargo.

Silence dropped heavily.

After a moment, Baxter took up the slack. “I understand you are executor of the estate until your stepdaughter comes of age.”

If Carly were here, she'd rip his throat out for calling her Roxy's stepdaughter.

Roxy looked up at Baxter in a coquettish manner. “You must have some pull. I haven't seen Eldon's will. How do you know this?”

Baxter puffed up at her gushing. “I have my ways.”

All of them underhanded and slimy.

Baxter produced a sad smile. “You're a young, beautiful woman. Surely you don't plan on staying here, your taste and talents going into a home no one sees.”

She studied her hands. “I have my stepdaughter's best interests to think about. I can't make a decision without her approval.”

I wanted to puke.

He leaned forward farther. “You're a shrewd negotiator. I would be willing to increase the offer if we can make a quick agreement.”

Roxy glanced at me with discomfort. “Carly is taking some time to herself, to mourn Eldon, and I can't reach her for a few days.”

Baxter's cool rasp chilled me. “What are your thoughts on selling?”

Roxy's eyes again bounced to me and then back to Baxter. Her smile showed strain. “I wouldn't mind leaving the Bar J. It's riddled with memories of my late husband, and they break my heart.”

“You're in charge, are you not? We can sign the contract tonight and you can be on your way to a whole new life.”

I stood by the kitchen island, forcing myself not to throw something heavy at Roxy's head.

She must have felt the violent waves flowing from me, because she held her ground. “I really need to wait for Carly's approval.”

Baxter drew in a long, wheezing breath. “What if Carly were no longer in the picture? Say she stays away for good?”

A mantel clock chimed eight o'clock.

I came around the island, advancing on Baxter. “You'd better stay away from Carly.”

Baxter's pale face turned from mine in dismissal. “You'll excuse us. Roxy and I have some business. It's later in Chicago, and I typically turn in early.” He seemed to remember something, and addressed Roxy. “You wouldn't happen to have a spare coffeemaker and some coffee, would you? I've been missing my morning fix.”

Oh no. She did not. I hadn't wondered how Baxter had arrived at the Bar J so quickly after calling Roxy. Or where he was hiding out from the news crew. Outraged, I blurted out before thinking, “Where are you staying?”

He didn't even grace me with a look. “Roxy graciously allowed me to stay at the cabin.”

“Glenda's house?” The words struggled from my mouth.

Roxy slapped her thighs. “It's better this way. Even if rooms were available at the Long Branch, you know how awful they are. So noisy, and they smell like grease. I don't think they even clean them.”

Since I'd worked for Aunt Twyla and Uncle Bud in high school, I knew the measure of unpleasantness in the rooms above the bar and grill. I'd swear to their cleanliness, though. If it mattered. The important thing was that Roxy was extending hospitality to the enemy and she hadn't even told me.

All the talk of keeping the ranch for Carly—the bargain that I help find Eldon's murderer, the displays of friendship—were all a put-on.

Baxter grimaced at me. “If you see your niece, give her my regards.”

The milk of human kindness didn't flow in Baxter's veins. Missing teen—who cares? Colleague murdered—move on to the next deal. Perhaps he could afford to be nonchalant because he'd already solved the first of his problems. I didn't doubt that Baxter was capable of eliminating Eldon if he stood the way of his plan.

Now Roxy had the power to grant his wish or to thwart him. At least he didn't need Carly anymore.

If Roxy wouldn't sell to Baxter, he might kill her. If she did, I'd do the honors.

“You two kids, have fun, and don't stay out too late,” I said.

 

22

My boots clunked on the polished wood floor as I let myself out. A brush of footsteps sounded on the brown grass of the yard, below the wide porch. I jumped to the stairs to get a better view.

A figure hurried away from the house. “Rope?”

He stopped, and hesitated a moment before turning to me. “Evening, Kate.”

I studied him and looked back at house. Windows ran along either side of the front door, and an expansive picture window opened in front. From the porch, a person could see everything going on inside.

I made my way down the stairs to Rope. “Were you spying?”

He focused through the windows, like a hawk eyeing a field mouse. “I saw Baxter driving up and thought I ought to make sure everything was okay.”

Rope had been on the Bar J since he was a teen. He had brought his bride here, raised his son on the prairies and pastures here, and now was providing Danny with the same stability. He must feel like Roxy held the end of the rug and was about to pull.

Believing that still waters run deep—and maybe mean—I'd feel better if I wasn't alone with Rope. But I plunged ahead. “What did you think Baxter might do?”

He kept his eyes trained on the conference inside the house. “S'pose she's making a deal with him now.” He clucked his tongue in resignation. “What a waste.”

“What do you mean?”

He frowned. “Eldon worked hard every day of his life. He could of sold out long time ago, but he held on for Carly.”

“I figured Eldon loved the ranch and didn't want to leave.”

Rope cringed like he was sucking a lemon. “Naw. Eldon had his eye on a slip of land and a cabin up in South Dakota, on Lake Oahe. He let on that he thought Carly might be better off with the money instead of the hard work. He was leanin' pretty hard toward selling.”

I didn't hide my surprise. That was almost word for word what Baxter had said. “Really?”

Rope still kept watch on Roxy and Baxter. “I was hoping to talk to Carly and let her know I'm here to help her. Probably selfish, but me and Nat, this is our home. Guess it don't matter. Either Carly will sell or Roxy will.”

“Why do you think Carly wants to sell?”

He looked at me like I'd grown Dumbo ears. “Baxter will offer so much money she'd be a fool not to.”

I'd be devastated to leave Frog Creek. But at least I had a college degree and was young enough to start over. I wouldn't starve or need to stand on a busy intersection with a sad story crayoned onto cardboard. Rope and Nat didn't have anything to fall back on.

“What about the hay meadow Eldon gave to Danny? Couldn't you put a house there and raise organic chickens or bucket calves or something?”

Animosity gleamed from Rope's eyes. “I wish to hell I'd never laid eyes on that land. It's been nothing but trouble.”

I glanced through the windows. Baxter might be a murderer, but right now he and Roxy provided a small sense of safety from the pent-up rage roiling off of Rope. Probably a bad idea to take off down a trail that upset him, but any detail might lead to finding the murderer. “I'd think, after all this time, you'd be glad to have your own land.”

He sounded as if slivers of glass sliced his tongue. “It ain't mine. It's Danny's.”

I poked at the wound, trying to get him to tell me something useful. “You think Eldon should have given it to you?”

His mouth stayed clamped for a long while. “It's been a good life out here, workin' with Eldon. I didn't need nothin' more.”

“What about Danny? Don't you want him to own something?”

Even though his voice never rose, it felt like he thundered. “A body's got to earn it.”

I'd have preferred to back away, slip into the pickup, and lock the doors. “You don't think Danny and Carly have worked hard enough to inherit land?”

A dark cloud passed over his face. “Kids now days are given so much in life that they never learn to work hard. Expectin' the world to be perfect.”

I knew that wasn't the case with Carly. “Danny isn't happy about the land Eldon left him?”

“Them damned kids are never grateful. I ought to have knocked sense into them when they was young.”

His fists clenched at his sides, and I tried to block the image of them shooting toward my face, connecting with delicate bones, bursting through my skin.

His focus settled on Roxy's window. “Did you see Baxter the day Eldon died?”

Rope's lip curled. “You been talking to Nat.”

We stood silent for a moment, then I said, “You lied when you said you didn't see anyone here that day.”

Rope didn't move for a while. “Baxter's been out here before that,” he finally said.

His statement seemed deliberate. “When?”

“A few times in the past few months. The first time I seen him here, he come up to the house when Eldon and me was figuring out what hay equipment needed repairs.”

“Did you hear what he and Eldon talked about?”

Rope shook his head. “That was before Baxter made all the offers, and I thought he was an insurance guy or cattle buyer. It wasn't until the meeting at the schoolhouse that I knew who he was.”

“Did you ever hear Eldon and Baxter talk?”

“Nope.”

We both watched Roxy and Baxter. She rose abruptly and walked away from the living room, toward the kitchen, out of our sight. Baxter jumped up and stalked her. Maybe it was my imagination, but it appeared that he wore a grim expression on his pale face.