Bead onTrouble Read online

  Come on, Kitz, I told myself, you know how to ride better than this.

  I forced myself to settle in, clutching with my knees, holding the reins like I'd been taught. The VW slowed for the big pothole, and I could see the back end of it clearly. I couldn't see inside, but somehow I knew. It just made sense.

  "All right, Cheech," I said. "Give it some juice—at the turn just get me close enough to see her. Then we'll go back." I clicked my tongue again, and he took off like a racehorse. Too late I remembered that he'd trained as one, and he real y knew how to run. By this time the VW was picking up speed, and so were we. I hung on as Cheech started to gallop. The VW was still pulling away, but we were going faster than I ever remember riding. Dust and wind whipped my face, and my leg muscles were as tight as I could get them.

  The white car slowed down far in advance of the turn, and we gained on it. I didn't think the driver had seen us, but suddenly she sped up. I ducked my head behind Cheech's to keep the dust out of my eyes and hoped that one of us was looking where we were going. It would have to be him; I was staring at the car.

  "That way," I said, pulling the reins to guide him. He was smarter than I was, he was already veering. "And keep it smooth," I shouted above the noise of his pounding hoofs. "My bottom's not in condition?'

  The car whipped to the right, not even slowing as it turned onto the bigger road_ I lost it in the trail of dust when I heard a squeal of brakes and gravel sliding. "Whoa!" I pulled hard on the reins and Cheech stopped, then whirled and started back the way we'd come. "Whoa."

  I reined him in as the sliding sound ended with a crunch of metal against wood. Car against tree. Or fence.

  The dust was terrible, and it took a minute for me to see that she hadn't made the turn. The VW had slithered off the road, the passenger side of the car smashed against a gnarly old oak. I slid off Cheech and moved forward to tie him to a bush at the back of the Beetle. My leg muscles were shaking.

  "Are you okay?" I shouted at the closed driver's window. When I didn't get an answer, I jerked on the door and it opened. Jennifer practically fell out. "Jennifer, are you all right?"

  "I'm fine." There was a slight cut on her forehead. "My head kind of hurts.

  "There's a cut."

  "Were you following me?"

  "I was." Sinatra meowed from the back seat.

  "Why?" she asked. "I was just going out for a malt."

  "You were?" I was sure she'd said she was keeping Sinatra, but she was so innocent looking. "But you had Sinatra."

  "I wanted a little company, that's all."

  She climbed out and stood up, shaking her legs as if to work the kinks out. I knew that feeling. I watched her, trying to remember what she'd said in the parking area before the VW took off. I was positive she'd said she was taking him to his new home. Yes, I was sure. She was taking him.

  Stealing a kitten?

  Jennifer was leaning against the side of the car, her arms wrapped around her shoulders as if she were cold. Hooked at her sweet face framed with the blonde curls. A tiny trickle of blood was rolling down toward her eye. "Do you have a Kleenex?" I asked. "You have some blood." I reached out to touch her face, but she brushed my hand away roughly.

  "I'm fine."

  "You're bleeding," I said. I reached around her into the side pocket of the Beetle to pull out a napkin I'd spotted. A blue chandelier earring fell out of it. When I opened the napkin, in the palm of my hand, I was holding an icy blue crystal necklace, another earring, and a matching bracelet.

  Now I knew for sure.

  I looked straight at Jennifer. "I expect you have an explanation," I said.

  I don't know what I thought she'd say or do, but I wasn't prepared for what happened. She reached out her hand, as if to take the jewelry, then pulled it back, and with a small shout, whipped it forward like a striking snake. It hit my wrist and sent a jolt of pain all up my arm.

  "No!" I dropped the jewelry to the ground. "What in the world—"

  She struck again. This time with a burst of sound and air, then a chop to my neck.

  I gasped, and the world went fuzzy. This wasn't going right. I heard Cheech nicker, and the VW rocked. Jennifer spun toward the horse, and it gave me a moment to breathe.

  He was snorting and jerking on the reins; she screamed.

  That upset Cheech more. His ears went back, and he was going to break free if she didn't calm down.

  "Be quiet," I said, I moved behind the open door, holding on so I didn't fall. "If he takes to rearing, he can crush you."

  "Horses terrify me." She backed up. "I didn't do anything wrong."

  That was a lie. "Just be calm, and he'll be fine."

  "Nice horsy." She looked frantic. "I hate horses."

  Well, it was mutual, but Cheech was calmer than she was. His ears came to a more forward position. "Just talk softly and it will be okay," I said. "They know when people are upset."

  "It's your fault. I was just taking Sinatra for a drive. I don't know what you think you were doing."

  I rubbed my neck—she'd apparently forgotten about that. I hadn't. I spotted some potato-sized rocks behind the door, and I took a couple of steps to get them. I'd hate to hit her, but if I had to . .

  "You made me wreck my car," she said, her eyes fixed on the skittish horse. "You're going to have to pay for it. I don't have that kind of money."

  "Unless you get the Tivolini contract. Didn't you have an appointment? Weren't you and May going in together as Wingfeather?"

  She whipped her head around to look at me. "How did you know?"

  "Who else could it be? Did she back out at the last minute?"

  'We are not having this conversation." She straightened, as if to regain her composure. "Instead, you're going to fall off your horse—it will be a deadly fall."

  She took a step closer. I put both hands on the door between us and shoved hard. It shot her back against the door jamb, and her head cracked against the roof.

  "Ow. That hurt!" There were tears in her eyes, like she was going back to soft and human again. She whimpered as she wiped away the tears. "You hurt me." She rubbed her hand across her face again, and this time it was as if she was wiping away all emotion. Her face went cold, and she sprang forward. I backed instinctively. She let out a yelp, and I heard a yowl at the same time. Jennifer swung around, and there was Sinatra clinging to the back of her pants. "Get off," she snarled. "Sinatra, damn it!"

  She reached to get him, but I came out from behind the door and grabbed him first. "Let go. Don't hurt him," I said. "He didn't do anything."

  She lashed out with her leg, and I fell back. Sinatra bolted. I didn't blame him; Jennifer didn't fight fair.

  I wasn't going to, either.

  I crouched as her fist came toward me, and I veered just in time. I couldn't look down, but my fingers searched the ground and found a rock. A big one. Jennifer had her arm back, ready to punch. I didn't wait, I swung my arm up, and her fist slammed into it.

  "Damn!" She doubled over with the pain of hitting the heavy rock.

  Now was the time to hit her back—I held up the chunk of granite, but I couldn't do it. Instead, I picked up a second rock. Jennifer rose up and kicked at me. Her foot caught me in the chin, but not full force. I was hearing noises, pounding. I threw the biggest of the rocks, and it smacked her in the shoulder.

  Then I heard a horn. There were tires spewing gravel. I turned in time to see the Land Rover coming at us. Jennifer screamed causing Cheech to rear; his rein snapped. He snorted, reared again, and his sharp hooves were just a few feet from Jennifer. She shrieked and scrambled into the car.

  The Rover skidded to a halt on the shoulder of the road.

  There-was a cloud of caliche, and through it I heard a door slam. A voice said, "Are you all right?" It was Shannan.

  She was safe.

  "Shannan?" I shouted.

  "Tante Kitzi?"

  "Stay back." The dust cleared, and I could see my shining blue Rover, coated in white
caliche. Cheech whirled and headed toward camp. "Don't come any closer," I told Shannan.

  "Why? Is that Jennifer? Is something wrong?"

  I thought fast. "Yes. I'm coming to join you." My eyes stayed on Jennifer. "Shannan, start the Land Rover."

  I stepped back from the VW. I couldn't leave, not without Sinatra. "Sinatra?" I let out a soft meow. "Where are you, little bud?"

  My eyes were locked on Jennifer as I stepped in front of the VW.

  I heard the Rover's engine start up.

  I took two more steps and heard a pitiful meow. Sinatra was hiding under the middle of the car. "Come on out, Sinatra. Come on."

  "No!" Jennifer tried to get out the passenger's side, but the door was jammed. "He's mine, I love him. Get away from him—I'll hurt you—"

  She switched to the driver's side and was out in a second, squatting down to reach under the car for the kitten. More pounding, and I looked up to see two horses galloping toward us. The rider had a hold of Cheech's reins. It was Nate.

  "Are you all right?" he called.

  "Fine," I said.

  "Tell him to get back," Jennifer snapped. She stood up, one arm around Sinatra. "I mean it. I'll hurt him." She came closer and shot out her leg at me. It just missed my knee. "I'll break him in half." She was clutching the kitten.

  "You can't—"

  "Tell Nate to get back. Now." She almost flung her hand up with the kitten. "You want him dead?"

  I threw the rock.

  It caught her on the temple, and she went down. A soft moan came from her, but she didn't move.

  Warily, I crouched beside her so that I could touch her forehead. She was breathing, but her eyes weren't focused on me. Sinatra mewed softly and crawled onto my lap.

  "It will be okay," I said to Jennifer. "It will be okay."

  It was a lie, but it was the best I could offer.

  Twenty‐Five

  S'more?" Nate asked, holding out one. The marsh-mallow was blackened from the fire in front of us.

  "Of course," I said. "It can't be camp if we don't do something a little evil."

  "I didn't have time for anything evil," Shannan said.

  She'd had to take more than her share these past few days.

  It had pulled all of us out of our comfort zone, but her more than the rest of us, maybe because she was young. Or perhaps because she thought that Jennifer was her friend.

  Shannan had shared her secret about May and Ron with Jennifer, who had told Peterson. Jennifer had also told him I had guns. Shannan was even Jennifer's alibi in some respects. They'd been drinking when Shaman went to the john and Jennifer slipped off to talk May into making a joint pitch to Tivolini. May turned her down. Jennifer had been furious, and May had died because of it.

  At least that was what we'd been able to piece together.

  Jennifer refused to explain to officials. But I knew.

  Beth was sitting beside Shannan. We'd only spent a few minutes talking once she'd gotten back to camp. She'd said she was only here to pick up Shannan, but she didn't seem in a hurry to leave. She looked different tonight, more at peace with herself. I wondered if Ron appreciated that she'd stood by him when he needed someone. I also wondered where their relationship would go from here. Beth said that she was willing to go in any direction, together or apart.

  She only knew that she would never settle for being second best again. I said, and meant, that I was going to hold her to that.

  "Who's next?" Nate asked, holding out another s'more.

  "I am," Cordy said.

  There was quite a group congregated for a final campfire. There were lots of the women from the bead retreat, and almost the entire Wright clan was there. Jeb, however, had left. He'd remembered a pressing appointment that required his immediate attention. He was forced to take a cab back to the airport because Leesa refused to drive him.

  She, it turned out, was a preacher's kid, Zeke's daughter, but beside that, she worked for her uncle, Nate, as a buyer for Tivolini. I'd had her pretty much pegged from the start.

  Angie and Sande were off to the side, still talking rubber stamping, and Beth was eating a s' more—just grateful, she said, that Ron was released. That occurred not because of anything he or his lawyer did, but because when Sheriff Gonzales arrived on the scene of Jennifer's accident, we convinced him that there was good reason to suspect she'd killed May. My bruises were important evidence, so I'd been examined by a doctor and photographed. Luckily, most of the damage she'd inflicted was to my extremities and my neck. I suspected there were bruises on my bottom, too, but those were from Cheech and my poor horsemanship.

  A dozen other women were crowded around the fire.

  Sinatra was asleep in the Lazy L.

  Nate, it turned out, owned Tivolini.

  "Now," I said. "I'd like to hear the story of how you went from offering a catalog with Mace in it to one with works of art."

  It was dark, with just light from the fire, but I'd swear Nate's ears turned red again. He shrugged. "I had the catalog and lots of connections with artisans, so it seemed a natural step."

  "I'm the one who convinced him to go upscale,"

  Leesa said.

  "Is that true?" I asked.

  "If you think I'm going to say no in front of her, you're very wrong. She retaliates."

  "And," Leesa said. "He was so grateful, I now own five percent of Tivolini." She winked at Nate. "I'll get more in a few years. And I deserve every share."

  "Sweat equity," he explained. "You see, I was remodeling an old home in Dallas, and Ms. Leesa kept dragging me to galleries to get just the right thing. I was surprised at how inexpensive some really beautiful pieces were. When I mentioned I could probably help the artists out by creating a catalog, she was all for it."

  "I taught him everything he knows," Leesa said. She didn't look quite as sophisticated as she had the night she'd rolled into the Lazy L, but then she'd been putting in some hard work of late. She had talked with over twelve bead artists and a stained glass artist who worked in Wimberley.

  I hadn't heard about the final selections, but she seemed pleased.

  "Have you decided who's getting the contract?" I asked.

  "Or is that hush-hush, still?"

  She exchanged a glance with Nate, and he nodded. "Basically," she said, "we're going to offer short-term contracts to three different artists. I fell in love with some very different looks, and I think our customers will like the variety." She sounded like a Tivolini buyer.

  "Which tells me nothing," Cordy said. "Who are the three?"

  Tony Campanel i, sitting beside Leesa, seemed suddenly quite protective. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to." I wondered how long Leesa would put up with that. I was giving her about fifteen minutes. Knowing Leesa, I suspected she had some investment banker on the line. A nice one, of course.

  "Well, I'd like to know," Angie said.

  "Me, too;' I said.

  Leesa frowned, and Nate grinned. "It's your call."

  She sighed and reached into her pocket for a piece of paper. One of Beth's chandelier earrings fell out. Leesa picked it up and read off the paper, "Tony Campanelli, Beth Fairfield—"

  "Hooray!" I cheered. Several others joined in, and Beth stood to take a tiny bow. Actually, the minute I'd shown Beth's chandelier pieces to Leesa, I knew that contract was settled,

  "So, why were you so mysterious yesterday?" I asked Leesa.

  "When?"

  "Right before dinner. You said you were there to play with Sinatra, but you weren't!"

  She roiled her eyes. "I was making a cell call!"

  "But, wait," Shannan said. "That was only three. Who else is getting a contract?"

  "Lynn Donaldson."

  Lynn stood up. "Are you serious?"

  "Yes," Leesa said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  It was the first time I saw Susie Lynn smile. "And I get to name my own prices?"

  "Within reason," Leesa agreed. "But no daggers. The daggers have to g
o."

  Lynn put her hands on her hips, and I thought she was going to talk herself right out of a contract, but she took her time, and finally favored us all with a half-smile, half-sneer. "We'll talk."

  "I wouldn't like to be in on that conversation," I said in a whisper to Nate.

  "No whispering over there," Cordy said to us.

  "Not even a few sweet nothings?" Nate asked.

  "No. This is a Green Clover campfire, and they are rated G."

  "Kitzi," Beth said, "you're turning red."

  I fanned my cheeks. "Personal summer."

  Nate grinned. "Miss Camden, would you like to go for a midnight ride?"

  "Uh, I don't believe I could ride anywhere after today."

  "Fine with me," he said, standing up. "How about if we take a walk." He reached down to take my hand, and I rose, feeling a little like a very graceful phoenix.

  "And where are you two going?" Cordy called.

  "Just to check on Sinatra," I said. I waved a goodnight to the group, and together Nate and I headed away from the campfire.

  Behind us, Beth started singing_ Everyone joined her.

  "When a Clover Gal goes walking with her one and only man, Rest assured she'll do the most official thing she can, She won't let him hold her hand,

  For he might not understand,

  That a Clover gal's an angel in disguise.

  Ha, ha!"

  Make Your Own

  Paper Beads

  SUPPLIES

  Wooden beads, unfinished

  Decorative papers

  White glue

  Acrylic spray sealant

  You can use any kind of wooden bead, but if it is painted or varnished, sand it first.

  Cut decorative papers into tiny pieces, squares or strips 1/4-1/2" depending on the size of your bead. If the piece of paper is too large, it won't lay flat on the bead without wrinkles.

  Put your bead on the end of a skewer to hold while working.