Wild Horses

Then, before he knew it, the facade of her primness broke. Who could have thought such storms of feeling could toss within her?

What alarmed him was how deeply grieved she seemed. Her body had heaved in the effort to control the sobs that threatened to break out of control. She said she was a secretary, but she obviously cared a great deal about Carolyn Trent and her family.

Adam was not cruel. When he saw suffering, his first impulse was to ease it. And her tears brought the reality home to him: Carolyn might well be a person worth caring about. And Carolyn, too, was suffering.

He swore aloud again. What to do now? Everything had to be rethought. Everything.

And as for the Nightingale woman, she’d gone from tempestuous sorrow back to cool efficiency so quickly that she’d thrown him off balance yet again. Well, he was stuck here with her until Friday. He supposed that having dropped her guard once she’d be careful not to do it again.

So be it. It’d be easier on both of them.

He hung his two spare shirts and other pair of jeans in the closet. He truly wasn’t much for clothes. For him, living on his small boat, wearing more than a pair of ragged cutoffs was dressing up. What he had on now was like formal wear to him.

The rest of the contents of the duffel bag were books, photos, a videotape, a folder, two sealed manila envelopes with Enoch Randolph’s legal papers and some documents. He put everything but his books into a dresser drawer.

He looked about the room, and homey as it was meant to be, he still felt trapped. He resisted the impulse to pace. He picked up one of his books and flopped down in a chair, draping one leg over the arm.

He opened the book and began to read, although he knew it nearly by heart. His eyes fell on one of the opening sentences.

“At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.”

That’s me, he thought, more restless than before. A sojourner in civilized life. I don’t live here. I’m just here for a temporary stay.

CHAPTER THREE

“VERN?” MICKEY HELD the receiver so tightly her knuckles paled. “Are you in Denver?”

“We got here about two hours ago.” Vern sounded exhausted in body and soul. “We’re at the hospital.”

“How’s the baby? How’s Beverly?”

“The baby…” He paused, as if uncertain how to say it. “The baby’s hanging in there. They—they say she’s a fighter.”

“She has to be,” Mickey said, her throat tightening. “Look who her grandma is.”

“Beverly’s pretty much out of it,” Vern said. “They’ve got her on morphine. She knows the baby has a problem. They haven’t told her yet how serious.”

“Does she know there’ll be an operation?”

“Not yet. They’re scheduling surgery for tomorrow. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

“How’s Sonny?”

“Sonny’s Sonny. He’s holding everything together. He’s with Carolyn right now.”

Mickey shifted in her chair and stared at the framed snapshots ranged along her bookshelves. From those frames smiled their faces, all of them—Carolyn, Vern, Beverly and Sonny. She herself was in some of the photos. Carolyn and Vern had taken her on the family vacations to Aspen. In one shot she stood in her rented skis, laughing between Beverly and Sonny.

She had to turn her gaze from the reminders of those happier times. “How’s Carolyn?”

Again Vern paused. “She did just fine until she saw the baby. It’s such a little thing. On a respirator, and all these tubes and wires running into her. Poor Caro just sort of—lost it. Sonny got her pulled together again. She asked him to prescribe her tranquilizers. She wants to stay calm as she can for Beverly’s sake.”

Mickey shook her head in sympathy, unable to speak.

“Listen, Mick,” Vern said. “We took off from home like a pair of bats out of hell. There’s a lot we didn’t tend to. Carolyn had some signed checks in her desk drawer. I planned on depositing them when I went to the courthouse. Could you go to town and put them in the bank? Otherwise we’ll have checks bouncing all over town. And some are paychecks.”

“Of course. I’ll do it right away. But, Vern?”

“Yes?”

She nipped at her lower lip. “Something else got lost in the shuffle.”

She thought of the man with the azure eyes. The man who could look haughty as a king in spite of his shabby clothes, who could be either icy or kind.

Vern sighed. “I’m sure dozens of things got lost, Mick. What is it?”

She took a deep breath and said, “Adam Duran is here. The executor of Enoch’s will.”

“Oh, damn!” Vern almost moaned. “Damn! I never gave him a thought. Neither did Carolyn, I know. Hellfire, she doesn’t need him on her mind, too. Why didn’t I think—”

Mickey, feeling guilty for adding to his troubles, tried to reduce them. “Don’t give it a moment’s thought. He’s here, he’s comfortable, I’ll see to him.”

“I don’t know why he couldn’t have handled this damned will business by mail,” Vern grumbled. “What sort of guy is he? A lawyer? A banker? Or just a friend of Enoch’s?”

Mickey remembered the untrimmed hair and faded clothes, and thought perhaps the less she said the better. “I don’t think he’s a lawyer or banker. Just a—an acquaintance.”

“Well, God knows what kind of acquaintance that old coot would make. Be careful. But feel him out, will you? Maybe there are some strings tied to this lease-land deal. I hope not. I don’t want any nasty surprises sprung on Carolyn. She’s in no shape for it.”

“I’ll find out all I can,” Mickey promised.

“Tell him you’re Carolyn’s most trusted agent. Anything he has to say to her, he can say to you. It’s true, God knows.”

A glow of pride warmed her, in spite of her anxiety. “I’ll be glad to. So rest easy about this, Vern. And don’t let Carolyn fret over it.”

“I’m not even going to mention it to her. She’s got enough on her mind, God knows. You should have seen that tiny child. All those tubes—Lord.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Mickey assured him. She told him to give her love to everyone. They said their goodbyes, and she hung up.

Feeling strangely agitated, she walked down the hall and knocked on the guest-room door. “Mr. Duran, I’m leaving. I have to go into town on an errand,” she said through the door. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Bridget should be along any minute. I’ll call her and let her know you’re here.”

She waited, holding her breath. At last, from the other side of the door, he answered, “Fine.”

That single word was apparently all the reply he was going to make.

She felt odd about leaving him alone in Carolyn’s house, but she had no choice. And what she’d told him was true; Bridget would soon be there.

AS SOON AS Adam heard the car pull away, he opened the door and glanced down the deserted hall. The house had that eerie, empty feeling that houses get when their dwellers are gone, but a lone visitor stays. The place was still and silent with no sign of life—except for him. The unwanted guest.

He walked down the hall and saw that the office doors that had been open before were now closed. He tried the first one. Unlocked, it swung open easily.