He flexed his arms, legs, shoulders, checking for pain, calibrating the stiffness and tension. He watched the water run in little rivers through the hair on his legs as he raised them experimentally out of the water. Most of his moving parts seemed to be back in normal operation, so he figured he'd soaked long enough.

Ellie must have dinner about ready. Come on, Cal. Time to join civilization.

He turned on the shower, stood up carefully in the tub, and lathered up thick swirls of suds over his whole body, all along the hard curves of his shoulders and arms and down his torso, ma.s.saging as he went and loosening the sand and dust that had worked in under his clothes. After three days out on the range, a man acc.u.mulates a lot of grit along with the smell of sweat and leather. He soaped up his thick black hair, rubbing at his scalp to clean out all the sand. A shaving mirror hung over the shower head, and while the water ran out of the tub, he lathered up and removed the stubble of the last three days.

Getting cleaned up makes a man feel better, and by the time he was rinsing the shaving cream from his face, Cal was even singing softly to himself while the hot shower stream washed away all the lather, the sand, and the pain in rivulets of sudsy water running down the muscles of his body.

So he was smooth and gleaming, smelling of soap and aftershave and dressed in clean jeans and a soft pale blue shirt when he came to the dinner table, hungry as a bear and feeling good. The whole family saw the change in his mood and figured the days on the range must have cleared up whatever had been bothering him. Dinner was lamb stew and fresh corn from Ellie's garden, and as soon as Harvey had said the blessing, he started to fill up the plates.

"Good to have you back, Cal," he said. "There's more fence down at the corral to take care of. And young A.J. here says he's waiting for you to teach him some roping." He pa.s.sed the first plate to Ellie and then started to ladle stew onto Cal's plate. "There's something else. I ran into that cute girl of yours a couple times while you were away, and I guess she'll be glad to see you." He paused for a moment, stew ladle in mid-air. "Though, to tell you the truth," he added, "I saw her on my way home tonight, when I stopped to get gas. And that girl didn't look too glad about anything. Fact is, she looked to me like she'd been crying and she wouldn't even stop to pa.s.s the time of day." He handed Cal's plate to him. "Just grabbed her thermos of coffee and ran out."

Cal's face had darkened at Harvey's words. He felt as though a fist had hit him hard, square on his chest. "She didn't say anything at all, Harv?"

"Not really. Only that she'd just run into her ex over in Butcher's Fork. Said it was a real b.u.mmer. Must have been, too. She sure looked awful."

Cal was up instantly, almost knocking his chair over. It teetered slowly and he grabbed at it, setting it straight on its legs.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. Dinner looks great, but I'm going to have to take a rain check. Don't be mad. I'll make breakfast for us in the morning or something. But I've got to go now."

"But Cal, you must be starving. Just stop long enough to have something." For almost thirty years Ellie had been trying make her kid brother behave, but she hadn't been successful since he was five. Now here he was, looking like fire and brimstone all of a sudden, not even waiting to eat. She knew it was useless to try to stop him.

He grabbed his fork, scooped up a quick mouthful of stew, and took a biscuit from the basket on the table.

"This'll do me," he said, his mouth full. He already had his hat off the peg on the wall.

Harvey was concerned. He hadn't had a chance yet to find out if Cal had checked the water pipes they'd laid out in the desert. And, while he didn't want to pry, he sure would like to know what the h.e.l.l was up with him these last few days. Cal was acting like a man possessed.

"She didn't tell me where she was going," he called after Cal who was already out the door.

"That's okay, Harv. I know where she is," Cal called back as the screen door closed behind him.

To the east, the remnants of the afternoon storm still hung menacingly over the mountains, its streaks of lightning slashing at the peaks like an angry animal, retreating temporarily, but waiting to make its next attack, its rumbles of distant thunder snarling a warning. And to the west, more flashes of approaching lightning, in sudden washes of thin light, made a yet-distant announcement that the next wave of storm was on its way. Directly above, breaks in the cloud cover let the brilliant moonlight come and go, making the fields on either side of the highway glow wetly in the moving patches of light.

The tires of Cal's truck screamed along the road as he raced to the canyon where he was sure Jamie would be.

Something's happened. That sonofab.i.t.c.h must have done something to her. Harv said she'd been crying and wouldn't even talk to him. Just ran off like that. Only one place she'd go, up to that clearing in the canyon.

Up ahead was the clump of cedar trees where the dirt road turned off to Jamie's house and as he neared the trees, he saw that lightning had slashed one of the cedars in two, leaving one part bent downward, reaching out toward the road, and the other half still standing, naked, with great slivers of riven wood fanning out in jagged spikes. Cal had to fight off the spooked feeling they gave him.

She's all right. She's got to be all right.

He grasped at the rea.s.suring straws to calm himself.

Been a couple of hours since that storm went through here. She must be out there somewhere, maybe scared and not being careful.

A distant light wavered momentarily in the sky. He didn't like the way he was feeling.

Maybe she didn't even go to the canyon. Maybe she's at home. She could be sleeping or something and the house could be set on fire and that father of hers wouldn't even know it.

A nightmare image flashed through his mind, of Jamie struggling to drag the unconscious man from the flames, screaming at him, helpless to save him. Helpless to save herself. Her hair, that beautiful hair, itself a bright light, flying about her face, her clothes catching fire-or she could be asleep upstairs while the smoke rose-a drunk like that is dangerous to live with, doesn't need any help from nature's random violence . . .

If anything's happened to her . . .

In the dark, the farm house was ahead of him. No smoke rising from it. No flames licking up the sides. In another sweep of the clouds, the moon showed through, revealing the house, quiet, ordinary, at no immediate risk. In the front room, the silvery, familiar light of the TV flickered. And her car wasn't there.

He looked up briefly, toward the roiling heavens. "Thank you," he whispered.

He realized his fingers had locked rigidly on the steering wheel; he lifted first one hand, then the other, stretching the muscles to relax them.

The heavy electric air filled once more with the pale aura of the distant lightning and Cal realized that if anything happened to Jamie, there'd be no pieces of him left to pick up. No knees, or arms, or legs, or head, or heart.

He hadn't known that until this moment. The anger of these last days, the humiliation, the frustration, all poured out of him and he was filled with a clarity of understanding.

The lightning flashed again, and in the glow that lit up the vast desert around him, Cal saw that he'd been wandering, like a lost kid, looking for the only thing in the whole world that really mattered.

He felt his heart twist inside of him and he prayed aloud.

"Please let her be all right."

Chapter Sixteen.

The mug of coffee had long ago grown cold in her hand and still she sat staring into the valley far below, frozen into the helplessness that came of her combined fury and panic. She had already cycled through the inevitable fantasies-impossible, every one of them-of murdering Ray, of kidnapping Mandy-even of killing herself. Now she waited for rational thought to return. She was oblivious to the wind rising in the treetops, sending an ominous whisper through the aspens. She didn't see the enormous forks of lightning that slashed at the mountain tops across the valley. She had no thought for the approaching storm.

It was the sound of the truck turning off the road that broke into her isolation, and before she could think-who could be coming up here?-the truck's lights lit up the trees and the rocks around her. It was moving fast and it pulled into the s.p.a.ce next to her Civic with a grinding of rubber against the earth. In almost the same instant the engine was cut, the lights doused, and she saw Cal coming toward her across the open s.p.a.ce.

And in that moment, Jamie felt the earth shift on its axis. In a single moment, her terror-filled reality turned rational.

He's come back!

All her efforts to put him out of her life collapsed like a child's fortress of sand.

Why has he come? What does it mean?

"What are you doing here?" She couldn't help the challenge in her voice.

He was determined that this time he'd be careful; this time he wasn't going to scare her away. He sat down on the rock, careful not to get too close.

"Harvey told me he saw you. Said you'd been crying." He saw her raise her chin defiantly. "Why don't you tell me what happened." He kept the question casual-and as gentle as he could.

Her heart was racing but she only shrugged, trying to pretend it was no big deal. "It was Ray. He just came out of nowhere. I was over in Butcher's Fork, at the Big Buy. I wasn't prepared. Just all of a sudden, there he was." Hearing herself tell it, aloud, brought the memory back in all its ugliness and terror, and her brave pretense crumbled. She could feel her lip trembling and she looked up toward the treetops, trying to control the tears that were beginning to come. "He just came up behind me and he got me totally by surprise. Like one minute I was looking at dish towels, and the next minute there's this sneering big sonofab.i.t.c.h right next to me. Making fun of me. Laughing at me." She brushed her hair away from her forehead, trying to steady herself. "Laughing about what he was going to do to me."

"And just what does he think he's going to do to you?"

"He says he can take Mandy away from me." The words were strangled in her throat and now she couldn't stop the tears. "He said he can even have her put away-into a foster home. He said he can take her away from me for good. And oh, G.o.d, he would do it, too. I knew it, right then, I knew Ray would do it, just for the fun of it. Just for the sheer, G.o.dd.a.m.ned, fun of it!" She dug her hand into her hair, clutching at it mindlessly. "I know how rotten that man can be and I feel so helpless. He kept laughing about what the judge had written about me and how the whole town thinks I'm no good because of what Orrin did. He made me feel like a stupid piece of dirt! I don't know what to do. It seems like every time I think I'm ready to take him on, turns out that b.a.s.t.a.r.d is a couple of steps ahead of me. I just don't know what I can do."

She felt hopelessly, helplessly muddled. On top of Ray's repeated a.s.saults on her self-esteem, her life-long, lonely habit of independence had smashed up against her desperate need for help. Cal's arrival only added to her confusion.

"I'm in real trouble, Cal." The words, so hard to say, were choking her. She stared bleakly into the distance. "I feel like I'm all coming apart."

She was in some terrible, lonely place of her own and didn't see that Cal reached a hand toward her, and she also didn't see that he thought better of it and held back. She said nothing for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her words were barely a whisper.

"All my life, for as long as I can remember, I've known it was up to me to take care of myself. Other kids had families, maybe big brothers, or a grandfather, someone who kept an eye out for them, someone they could go to. When I was a kid, the only family I had was that tanked-up b.a.s.t.a.r.d who practically never even knows if it's day or night. The town drunk, that's who I have for a father. It's the same with that house down the road." She gestured toward the valley. "It used to be a nice place once, I've seen old photos of it. That decrepit farmhouse, the whole town calls it a disgrace to the community, that's my home. That's what I grew up with."

Still looking away from Cal, she brushed at her cheek, as though trying not to acknowledge the tears. "Listen to me. Like I don't have enough to worry about! But he's my father, for G.o.d's sake! I used to love him once, when I was a kid. I used to try to do things to make him be better. I'd try to cook for him, get a whole nice dinner ready, I thought if I made it look like the pictures I saw in the magazines, with soup and mashed potatoes and little pats of b.u.t.ter-it was all so useless. I tried so d.a.m.ned hard and I was just a kid, I didn't know you can't cure a drunk with mashed potatoes.

"And tonight, as I was coming up here, I saw that d.a.m.ned TV light in the front room and I knew he was home, and you know what I wished. I wished lightning would strike the place and burn it all up, with him in it. It's come to where I wish my own father was dead! And it really is a wonder it hasn't happened yet, him setting the place on fire. It wouldn't surprise me. And the d.a.m.ned thing is, what p.i.s.ses me off most, I know I'd try to save him. Just like I used to try to make dinner for him, I'd still try to pull him out of the fire. Like he deserves to be saved! I hate feeling like this!"

"You and I both know," Cal said quietly, "that isn't what you want for your dad. He's got a stinking, rotten problem, and that problem has hurt you terribly, but no one deserves to die in a fire."

She sighed wearily. "I know. The drinking is his problem-not mine." She took a long, deep breath. "Cal, I don't have the strength to deal with this. There isn't a d.a.m.ned thing anyone can do to turn a drunk around. Only he can do that. And maybe he will, and maybe he won't. Much as it hurts, and much as it drives me crazy, that's the way it is. My problem is to live my life. And I've got Mandy to think about."

Suddenly, on a perverse impulse, as a comic thought zigzagged through her pain, she added, "And hey, so what if he is the town drunk? Every town has to have one. Like a mayor or a dog catcher."

Cal smiled. He knew that the silly joke meant she was settling her nerves. If there was no laughter at all, you really had reached rock bottom.

Her laugh was brief. "I shouldn't have said that. It's not funny."

"I know it's not funny. But you're right about having to live with it, just like everyone's got something rotten they have to live with."

"Not everyone. You don't." She was thinking of what she'd seen at the C-Bar-a happy home, loving parents, a successful life.

"What makes you think I don't have anything really rotten to live with?"

"Like what?"

"Never mind what. We can talk about my stuff some other time. You think I came racing up here tonight, didn't even get my dinner, just to talk about my problems?"

"Why did you come?"

He needed to let a cautious beat or two pa.s.s before he answered. He needed to let her keep some distance. There'd be time enough, later, to let her know that his heart would crack and never heal if she were hurt. That the thought of her pain was enough to make him tear down mountains. So he chose to keep it simple.

"I came because I have some information for you. Would have gotten to it after I ate some of Ellie's stew if I'd had a chance, but when Harv said he'd seen you and said he could see something was wrong, well, I just decided to get right on up here and tell you what I found."

"What you found?"

"I took a little ride out in the desert. It's a long story, but the bottom line is, I'm pretty sure I know what your ex-husband's been up to. It's drugs, Jamie. It's too soon to tie it to him, for sure, but I can feel it in my bones. And if I got it right, it's not any little two-bit stuff he's doing, either."

Then he gave her all the details. The burn marks in the sand. The tire tracks. The bits of burlap.

"Someone's using that desert to run drugs, Jamie, and from your description of him, I'd bet anything Ray's the one."

She chewed thoughtfully on her thumbnail. "It figures," she said. "He's got an auto dealership over in Butcher's Fork. Where would a young guy like him get the money for that? And what a great cover for hiding cash-all those big-ticket sales. And what a great excuse for traveling all over the state, delivering vehicles. Come to think of it"-she was getting excited now-"that explains what he was doing at the Big Buy today. I was in the housewares section, buying towels, and that's right over by the auto supply section. Where they sell road flares."

She shook her head, finding it hard to get a handle on this revised picture of her ex-husband. "I've known Ray since we were in kindergarten together. I thought I knew him pretty well. h.e.l.l, I was married to the guy, after all, and he is Mandy's father, for G.o.d's sake. I mean, I finally realized how slimy he'd become, but I never thought-I mean really, a big-time criminal?"

"But it's possible?"

She stared out into the distance. "Well, you know, Cal, I think it could be." She was seeing a number of things for the first time. "He was always sort of wild, in trouble in school, that kind of thing. I know that doesn't make him a criminal, and I always thought he'd get over it, you know, when he grew up, but Ray never mellowed out, the way the other boys did. It's as though his meanness just got more organized. Maybe it was that mother of his. He really hates that old witch and I wouldn't be surprised if all that phony righteousness of hers made him kind of crazy."

She snapped her fingers. "And another thing, tell me, what's Ray Nixon, in a little town like Sharperville, doing with a really good lawyer'? And that's not all. What about all this money he's flashing around. Big silver belt buckles and fancy boots, and I'll bet that ring on his finger is a real diamond. I don't care how good the auto business is, it's not that good. And what's more, I bet that's why he's stayed in that c.r.a.ppy trailer. With all that money, he could be living in a regular house. But the trailer's way out there, maybe a mile from town, where he can do what he's doing and folks won't notice."

She was talking faster now, putting things together. "Often he's away for days at a time. Why should an auto dealer need to be away so often? And what's Orrin Fletcher doing back in town? If that ex-con is around, you can bet he's hooked up somehow with Ray, and not in a good way."

She was connecting all the links. She remembered what Mandy had told her about the party at Ray's trailer. Here, kid, sniff some of this stuff. Of course!

"I think you're right, Cal. He's not just a small-time user, with Tina and their friends. I'll bet he's got a regular distribution going, flying the stuff up from Mexico and Central America."

Cal nodded. "That makes sense. The pieces fit. I'd seen burn marks like those in the sand months ago, but I didn't connect it up till we were in Elaine's office. I think she had a notion about what Ray's been doing and when she talked about getting evidence, that's when everything came together."

"Why didn't you say anything then?" The question hung there for a minute. In the excitement about Ray's activities, they'd both forgotten. Now they were each embarra.s.sed.

Cal looked down at his hands. He waited a long time to answer "I was mad," he said, finally. "I'm not used to being told to shove off-leastways, not by a woman. But I acted like a jerk. No excuse for that. I just wasn't thinking how hard it is for you."

She caught her breath. He was giving her a chance-for the first time since she was very little-to put a timid toe into the unfamiliar waters of trust.

But it was so hard. Did she dare?

"I acted like a jerk, too," she confessed softly. "We could have talked. We could have figured out what was going on."

With these words, she set aside, for the time being, all her other problems, set aside Mandy and Ray and drugs and Edna and everything else. "And afterwards, I was so miserable. I thought you were really gone. When Harvey said you'd left, I figured you'd just saddled up and ridden off into the sunset. I figured I'd never see you again. I thought, after that one night at the C-Bar, at that beautiful spot you took me to, your special, secret place-oh, Cal, you don't know. Everything I've ever wanted . . . I saw it there in that house you'd grown up in-good parents, everything so perfect, so good-like life can really be like that. I could feel the love all around. Cal, you don't know how precious it is. And then, after what happened between us-all my fault-I figured you'd had enough of me and my problems. And I was so scared. It's all gotten too big for me, and I can't handle it on my own."

Cal recognized the pain of her vulnerability, acknowledged at last after so many years of punishing self-control. Involuntarily, helplessly, as though with a will of its own, his hand touched her face and, with careful fingertips, turned her gently to look at him.

And, although she stiffened at his touch, instantly wary, she understood his gentleness. She understood that he was trying not to frighten her. And perhaps, because she was exhausted by all she'd been through, because her defenses were exhausted, too, this time, she didn't resist. But she could hardly breathe as his hand stroked softly through her hair and all her nerves were on high alert. He moved closer to her and she knew she wanted him to kiss her, even as she was terrified that he would.

Behind him, the black treetops were being whipped by the wind, and his voice was barely more than a whisper, caught up in the harsher whisper of the trees that now were bending, fighting against the rising wind.

"Why, shoot, honey. Don't you know? n.o.body can make it on their own. That's why the good Lord makes people need to be together."

He took her protectively into his arms, careful not to frighten her even as he drew her close against him, and suddenly there was the warmth of his body and the faint scents of leather and soap and of some scent of his own, something masculine and exciting. She could feel the smooth skin of his face against hers, and his heart was beating hard against her own.

"Did you hear what I said?"

He was so close now.

And then his mouth touched hers and his kiss was as gentle as a baby's.

What was it he had said? Something about being alone? But everything had slipped away, evanesced into the electric air that surrounded them. She knew only that in the midst of the threatening thunderstorm, his gentle kiss was like the quiet center of her own emotional storm, and against all her sad experience, his kiss was a safe haven.

She knew what Cal wanted and she knew that now she was going to let it happen. But she had long ago shut down the words of consent, lost them from her vocabulary. Instead, silently, she let her gaze answer the question she saw in his eyes. She was frightened, excited, and eager, all together, but his gentleness gave her courage, and she would not listen to the demons that were laughing at her, scolding her for giving in. She smiled-such a small smile-and nodded.