Castle Rock (5 page)

“In that event, I'll come,” Jed said easily. “I'll look forward to it.”

Serena looked forward to the evening, too.

This first social of the summer was going to be especially festive. Serena had worked all week, making the arrangements, making sure there were plenty of country and western tapes for the stereo, including, of course, the Texas two-step and San Antonio promenade. She had rearranged the furniture in the den so there would be plenty of room for dancing, and she had stocked the bar, including Coors and wine for the ladies, since Uncle Dan didn't believe in hard spirits for ladies. After Mrs. Minter discovered the bar didn't run to gin, Serena wondered how the evening would go. But that, she felt, was Mrs. Minter's problem. Probably the arrival of the neighbors would distract her. There were some very attractive men at some of the surrounding ranches.

Serena helped Millie clear the dinner dishes, then checked on the hors d'ouevres. When everything was ready, she hurried upstairs to dress. She swept her hair back in a chignon and lightly touched her cheeks with blush. She chose a long swirling skirt but couldn't decide between a saucy peasant blouse or a more low-cut soft cotton top. Smiling, she finally slipped on the low-cut blouse and added a necklace of shining turquoise. Uncle Dan had given the necklace to her on her twenty-first birthday. She looked into the long mirror. Her hair shone softly, the color of a midnight sky. The blue-green of the turquoise emphasized the vivid green of her eyes. She looked lovely and she knew it with a surge of delight. Excitement hung in the air. She had not so looked forward to an evening for a long, long time.

The party began gloriously, despite the Minters. Old friends arrived in a drove, the Salazars from Circle Bar M, the Mackenzies from Burnt Hill, the Berrys from Dutchman Creek, the Montoyas from Crazy Horse. The den resounded with booming voices and laughter and lots of talk, the outlook for the fall beef prices, the battle against new federal regulations, the worry of the continuing drought, the price of feed. And the dudes mixed in, welcomed by the friendly ranch families.

Except, of course, for the Minters.

Sam Berry from Dutchman Creek took a liking to Mrs. Minter. Sam stood six feet two in his stockings, was built like a brown bear, and had a reputation as a brawler. He and Lou Minter retired to a secluded corner near the gun rack. Replenishing a relish tray near them, Serena overheard an animated discussion of the blackjack table at the Sahara. Serena glanced across the room at Sam Berry's wife, Chrissie, caught a look of weariness, and felt a pang of sympathy. Why did some men have to be such asses?

Serena moved from group to group, smiling, hearing the latest gossip, and waiting for Jed to come. It was almost nine when she saw him standing a little hesitantly in the archway to the den. He wore tan slacks and a blue polo shirt open at the throat. He looked strong and confident even in this roomful of hardy men. Serena was walking toward him, smiling, but she had taken only a few steps when Julie turned and reached out to take his hand and draw him into the circle around her.

Serena stopped. Before she could move again, Howard Minter blocked her way.

“Hey there, honey, you're a real picture tonight.”

Serena looked up at him blankly. But it wasn't for you, she thought, that I chose this blouse, wore my turquoise necklace.

She forced a smile. “How are you tonight, Mr. Minter?”

His heavy arm slid around her shoulders, and she could smell the thick sweetness of bourbon on his breath. “Oh now, we don't have to be so formal. My name's Howard. And you're Serena. That's a pretty name.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly.

“Here,” and he began to steer her toward the center of the long room and the open space where a few couples danced. “Let's get in on this number. I'm a pretty good dancer.”

It would have been rude to pull away. Serena had been taught never to be rude.

She hated the feel of his hot heavy hand on her back, disliked being close to him, smelling the mixture of bourbon and a cloying men's cologne. Over his shoulder, she could see Julie and Jed dancing close together, looking like a couple made for each other.

A heavy sense of foreboding settled over her.

Not again. Surely not again.

Julie was laughing up at Jed, tilting her head back. Her shining blonde hair swung free, showing the graceful line of her throat and shoulder.

Lovely, lovely Julie.

When the couples turned and Jed looked across the room, Serena's face remained stolid and blank. The smile that began on his face slipped away and he had a glimpse of surprise in his dark blue eyes.

As the couples moved in the controlled circles of the dance and again Serena and Jed faced each other, she was ready with a smile, but this time Jed was looking down at Julie, his face absorbed and intent.

The dance seemed interminable to Serena, a parody of pleasure. As the music ended, she excused herself from Howard Minter on the plea of checking the kitchen. But when she saw Jed and Julie standing close together in a little oasis of privacy at the far end of the room, Serena turned and walked blindly toward the French windows.

She slipped out into the cool darkness of the patio and walked deep into the shadows of the magnolia. The gentle night breeze rustled the glossy heavy leaves. She pressed her hands against her flaming cheeks and plunged even farther away from the brightly shining windows toward the end of the hacienda. It was quiet here, away from the rising tide of voices and music, away from Jed and Julie. Her slippers made no sound against the flagstones.

When she heard Uncle Dan's angry voice, raised almost to a shout, she knew he was too upset to care whether he was overheard. She had heard that kind of tone in his voice only once before, years ago. She didn't remember now why she had been present at the confrontation, she remembered only the sound of Dan McIntire's voice. A cowboy who had worked for the ranch for years had been discovered to be rustling cattle, segregating them in a hidden canyon, altering their brands, and spiriting them out a few at a time to sell.

Dan McIntire had been outraged. His voice had shaken with fury. “A man is either honest or he isn't.”

Now, so many years later, she heard the same anguish and outrage in his voice in a scrap of a sentence.

“. . . on my land?”

There was no mistaking who spoke. She would have bet her life on it.

Someone else spoke then, but his voice was low and indistinguishable. She couldn't hear the words or recognize the speaker.

Uncle Dan spoke again, still loudly, still angrily. “Goddammit, I won't have it! I'll stop it.” His voice lowered and she just caught a few more words, “. . . glad you told me. I'll . . .” A door closed. The voices were gone.

Serena stood uncertainly for a moment, just outside the office window.

Something was terribly wrong.

She gathered up her skirt and began to run lightly back toward the French windows. She must find Uncle Dan, talk to him. She came back into the brightly lit room. Voices rose and fell cheerfully, music throbbed in the background. Couples danced. The party was exactly as it had been a few moments ago—and that shocked Serena because she knew something was terribly wrong.

She saw Uncle Dan then. He was all the way across the room, standing in the archway to the hall, listening courteously to Rosa Montoya of Crazy Horse Ranch. But Serena thought she saw, even at this distance, a look of strain on his face.

She started across the room, but one person stopped her, then another. From each she disengaged as quickly as possible, then, near the organ, she found her way blocked by Julie and Jed.

Serena tried to slip past. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

Julie reached out a slender hand, the nails long and perfect and vividly red. “Why, Serena, where have you been? In the kitchen?”

Her lazy tone suggested that the kitchen, of course, was Serena's proper place.

Serena managed a smile. “Actually, Julie, I've been out on the patio. It's a lovely night.”

“All alone?”

“That would be telling,” Serena replied coolly. Then she looked directly at Jed. “Have you had a good time tonight?”

He looked from one of them to the other, then said, almost angrily, “I always have a good time.”

“Damn lucky. That's what you are. Damn lucky.” The words were thick and slurred. “Don't have a good time. Not anymore.”

The three of them turned in unison, like marionettes, to look up at Will. A very drunk Will. He swayed back and forth, from toe to heel, like a huge tree ready to topple.

Serena felt a pang of distress. Before dinner, Will had smiled at her, his light blue eyes eager, and asked her to promise him a dance. “Like old times,” he had said happily. “Of course, Will,” she had answered, looking forward to the evening, “it will be like old times.”

And she had not looked for him, not the whole evening long. There had been the kitchen to check and old friends to greet and Jed to wait for. Now the evening was almost over and she had never danced with Will.

Will's face was puddly and slack. “No damn good,” he muttered thickly, “no damn good any more.”

Serena looked past Will toward the archway. Uncle Dan had little patience with those who drank too much. A drunk was never invited back to Castle Rock. If he saw Will like this . . . Serena reached out, took Will's arm, “Come on,” she said gently, “let's take a walk, Will.”

It took Will a long moment to understand, then he tried to smile. “With me, Serry, will you walk with me?”

“Of course I will. Come on now, let's go this way.”

They started off toward the French windows and he leaned against her, big and heavy. Then he stopped. “Serry,” he said slowly, painfully, “you won't want to walk with me. Not any more.”

She tugged at his arm. Uncle Dan was still standing in the archway, moving now toward the foyer as some of the guests began to leave.

“Of course I'll walk with you, Will. Let's go out this way.” She wanted to get him out to the patio and around the side of the house and up the outside stairs to his room. She tugged again.

Then Peter and Jed came up on either side.

“Come on, old man,” Peter said briskly, “we'll give you a hand.”

Will stiffened and tried to pull his arms free, but the two men were moving him ahead now.

“We'll take care of him,” Jed said quietly. “You and Julie go ahead and help say goodbye to the guests.”

Serena hesitated, but Jed and Peter had Will to the window now. Will looked back, and his face was so sorrowful that Serena took a step after them.

“Oh come on, Serena,” Julie said irritably. “They'll see to him.”

“Julie, what can be the matter? What's wrong with Will?”

“Nothing,” she snapped. “He's drunk. The fool.” Her face was white and angry. Her hand caught Serena's elbow and the two of them turned toward the archway.

“Don't tell Uncle Dan,” Julie said in a low tight voice.

“Of course not,” Serena replied angrily. Julie didn't have to tell her that.

Then they were caught up in the knot of guests and dudes saying goodnight. When the front door finally shut behind the last of them, the smile faded from Uncle Dan's face and he looked stern and somber.

Serena wanted to ask him what was wrong, but Julie was standing beside him, and she had slipped a hand through his arm and turned and walked with him toward the stairs. Serena trailed along behind.

“Another successful dance at Castle Rock,” Julie said lightly.

Uncle Dan looked down as if just realizing she walked with him. He managed to smile. “Did you have a good time, honey?”

“A wonderful time, Uncle Dan.”

“Good, good,” he said absently.

Near the top of the steps, Julie said, “Tell me more about your new man, Uncle Dan. The one named Jed.”

Serena's step faltered, then, stolidly, she continued to climb. Uncle Dan came out of his abstraction, and his voice warmed as he spoke. He obviously liked Jed so much.

Serena tried not to listen. At the top of the steps, she paused, then said goodnight abruptly and left Julie deep in conversation with Uncle Dan.

She looked back once, but they were still talking. Serena had hoped to ask Uncle Dan what had upset him, for she knew he was still distressed. But she certainly didn't want to ask in front of Julie, and Uncle Dan might not want anyone else to know what he had learned in the den.

Actually, she thought, as she opened her door, he might not want her to know. Castle Rock, after all, was his ranch. She had no claim. No right to interfere. She didn't want to interfere; she only wanted to help.

She gave one last glance down the hall, shut her door. She would talk to Uncle Dan tomorrow. There would be plenty of time to talk to him tomorrow.

Serena moved restlessly in the wide double bed. Moonlight spread across her floor. The moon was high. The time must be late. The yellow glow through the windows was almost as bright as day. She closed her eyes firmly, but sleep wouldn't come. Images moved in her mind, Julie and Jed together, Will swaying on his feet, Uncle Dan's tired face in that last glimpse before she turned up the hall.