Sara stopped the car in front of the rustic cabin and got out, taking a deep breath of clean, country air. This had been her parents’ getaway before they’d been killed in a car accident right after she graduated high school. She’d had to sell their comfortable three-bedroom rambler in Ft. Worth to pay for her college, but she’d managed to hang onto this.
She took another deep breath. The silence was amazing. No traffic snarls, no wailing sirens, no humans. Even the vast expanse of sky looked bluer. Probably because of no smog, she thought as she became aware of the small sounds of nature around her. Something—probably a rabbit—rustled softly in the undergrowth of sagebrush nearby. A cardinal tri-whistled, calling his mate, his red coat brilliant against the thin green leaves of a mesquite tree. A mockingbird swooped low, settling on the wooden frame of the well near the kitchen.
Passing the old hitching post that still stood in the yard, Sara climbed the porch steps, unlocked the door and stepped inside.To the left stood a sturdy oak table and four high-backed wooden chairs, the kitchen behind them. To her right the small living room held a sofa with one of her mother’s hand-knitted afghans draped over the back and an overstuffed leather chair her father had loved. A small hallway led to the back where two bedrooms shared a bath. No television. No computer. No phone. Simply furnished for a simple life that didn’t involve cars careening around corners nearly killing her, or ancient documents with mysterious clues. She needed a break.
She frowned. When she had been here just before Christmas, she had lit a fire in the stone-walled fireplace that filled most of one side of the small living room. The ashes still lay on the hearth. Her mother would have been horrified to leave such a mess, but then, Sara hadn’t been in a particular frame of mind to care. If she remembered correctly, she’d finished nearly a whole bottle of Grand Marnier—a small bottle, to be sure, but a whole one—while she used every cuss word she could remember to erase the memory of the adulterous fraud that had forgotten to mention he was married. He was just lucky she hadn’t landed a curse on him that made his penis fall off. But even in a drunken stupor, she hadn’t wantedthatcurse to reverse itself on her!
She set her backpack down and went outside to bring in the sack of groceries she had brought and then opened the windows to let the air blow through. Even though her parents had conceded the need for electricity, her father had balked about installing air-conditioning. The Comanche hadn’t needed it when they roamed these hills, so why should he? Out of respect for him, Sara had not installed it either. Anyway, this was spring; the heat wave had passed and the wind was pleasantly cool. The thick adobe-plastered walls were insulating.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. Chiding herself for not remembering to turn the thing off, she dug through her purse.
“Hello?”
“Sara. Where are you?” Mr. Smith asked in a petulant tone.
She sighed. She had left a message on his machine that she wouldn’t be in, but she should have known he’d want more details. Being nosy was one of his quirks.
“I’m atLaRanchita,” she answered. It was silly calling this small cabin on its two acres of land even a little ranch, but her father had always liked using Spanish words.
“But, dear, that’s absolutely in the middle of nowhere! And you don’t have A/C. How will you ever survive?”
She could almost see him wiping his forehead for imaginary sweat with his expensive linen handkerchief. She bit back a grin. “I’ll survive. I got the paper back from Professor MacDonald and I want some time to study it.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a moment and then, “I’m sure Mr. Ramsey would like to be included.”
She couldn’t tell him that Lucas Ramsey was the real reason she was here. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I’m sure he can wait.” She could hear muffled voices in the background. Mr. Smith was obviously relaying the message.
He came back on the line. “Mr. Caldwell has some questions about the swords.”
She hoped he hadn’t been able to hear their exchange about the manuscript. “Tell him I’ll be happy to help tomorrow. I really must go.” She hung up before Mr. Smith could start complaining about her absence further.
She stretched.I’ve got to clear my head. Get outside and enjoy nature.She looked around and noticed the woodbin was empty.It might be cool enough for a fire tonight. Chopping some wood is just what I need.
Whistling lightly under her breath, she picked up the small ax and headed outside.Ah, it felt good to be totally alone in wild country!
****
“She’s alone,” Caldwell said on his cell phone in his car. “Alone in the country, and she has a copy of the manuscript. I can take care of it tonight.”
“You have the exact location?” Baylor blew a smoke ring from his cigar in his hotel room.
“Close enough. When I get within range, the GPS will bring me to her doorstep. Do you want me to break and enter or do you want me to finish her off?”
Baylor thought. The little bitch deserved to be tortured first. She’d upset his plans to purchase the manuscript and then he’d had to chase her half way across the world and here he was, stuck in a hotel room instead of his own well-appointed and well-serviced quarters in London. Even if the room cost $500.00 a night, the food didn’t rival his own French chef. Yeah, the girl definitely needed to suffer. And he hadn’t really had an opportunity to experience the wide-open spaces that made Texas bigger and better than anywhere else in the world. Or so the advertisements said.
“Neither. I don’t want her seeing you. She might still be useful. I’ll take care of this little matter myself.”
There was a moment of silence at the other end. Then, “Did I do something wrong?”
Baylor almost smiled. So, even the con-man was a little bit afraid of him. Good. It would keep him on his toes. He wished he had been able to bring his whip. Cracking it over the air might have been the thing to do.
“Not at all,” he said benignly. “But I do want you to stay on the assignment. It won’t do any good to have suspicions aroused if you don’t show up tomorrow.”
“Right. Got you. Oh, and Boss, a hot little number dropped by this afternoon. Said she was a friend of Sara’s, but thelook she gave her was anything but friendly. The girl’s name is Morgan. We might be able to use her.”
“Good work.” Baylor hung up the phone and poured a neat Bourbon. Perhaps he’d get to know this Morgan better.
****
