Man on a Mission. Carla Cassidy
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you all agree or the ranch is sold and the proceeds are paid to Clara Delaney.”
There was a long, tension-filled silence.
“I have a new friend,” Mark said to nobody in particular. He knew his comment was completely inappropriate but in keeping with the path of subterfuge he’d decided to follow.
“That’s good, bro.” Luke clapped Mark on the back absently. “So, what’s the decision here, gang? I’ve got plans for the night.”
Johnna turned from the window and faced her brothers, then looked at Walter. “Tell me again how this works and who is responsible for what.”
Mark stifled a sigh, wondering how many more times they would have to go through all this before a final decision was made. One thing was clear: Matthew wasn’t willing to let go of the ranch. Was it because he was involved in the illegal activity Marietta had discovered?
“Your father requested I continue as overseer of ranch finances,” Walter explained. “Each of you would log in with me concerning your hours worked here. Matthew, your father wished you to continue as manager, overseeing the daily operation of things. Mark would remain in charge of the livestock. Luke would take care of maintenance and repairs, and you’d handle public relations and publicity.”
As Walter continued to talk, Mark cast surreptitious glances to his siblings. He’d like to think he knew them well enough to know that none of them would be involved in any nefarious operations on the ranch. But he couldn’t.
Sadly, at thirty-three years old, Mark was no closer to knowing his brothers and sister than he’d been at ten.
“Johnna, please.” Matthew’s voice was tense and Mark knew the price in pride his older brother paid to beg. Was there also desperation there? “We have to come to a decision now. We’ve got a full slate of guests due to arrive in two weeks. Just give it a try.”
Mark looked at his sister. She was beautiful, but any softness she’d possessed had died when she’d miscarried in the sixth month of her pregnancy eight years ago without a man anywhere near her side.
All the pleading in the world wouldn’t move Johnna if she didn’t want to be moved. She’d become hard. Hard enough to get involved in illegal activity, Mark thought.
She sighed and looked at Luke. It had always been so, that the two youngest, Johnna and Luke, had a closeness that excluded their two elder brothers.
Luke shrugged with his usual devil-may-care grin. “Why don’t we try it for three months, then see how things are going? We can always walk away at that time. What do you say, Mark? We give it a try?”
“Sure,” Mark agreed then added, “My new friend’s name is April.” He smiled at his brothers and sister as if he didn’t feel the raw emotion, the heightened tension in the air. If only he could trust his family enough to let go of the fool’s role, he thought. But he couldn’t forget Marietta’s words of warning.
“April?” Luke raised an eyebrow in Matthew’s direction.
Matthew waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ll explain later,” he said, his gaze focused intently on Johnna.
“All right,” she said to Matthew, her features taut with irritation. “I’ll give it a try. Not for father’s sake, but because I know how important the ranch is to you and Mark.”
“Then it’s settled,” Walter said as he stood. “I’ll be in touch with each of you later this week to work out the details.”
Mark stood, grateful the matter had been decided and eager to escape. Throughout dinner and during the entire discussion about the ranch, all he’d been able to think about was April and Brian and the cooler of food.
He’d seen the contents of the cooler when Brian had nearly upended it when he’d grabbed it from the back seat of their car. It had been a scant amount of fruit, several hunks of cheese and a couple cans of soda.
As he’d eaten his dinner of roast and potatoes, fresh corn and homemade bread, he’d thought of them dining on their pitiful fare and had decided a care basket was in order.
Matthew walked the others to the front door, and Mark made his escape into the kitchen. Lucinda, the woman who’d been cooking for the Delaney family for as long as Mark could remember, had already left for the night. The enormous kitchen was spotless, but Mark knew there were always plenty of leftovers in the refrigerator.
He grabbed a basket from the pantry, then checked out the contents of the large, stainless steel refrigerator. Spying several pieces of fried chicken from the night before, he wrapped them in foil and put them into a basket. He added a container of potato salad, a small tub of baked beans and bread and butter.
Then, thinking of the boy, he wrapped up half of the chocolate cake Lucinda had baked that day and added it to the basket.
He left by the back door, catching his breath as he stepped from the cool of the house into the heat of the evening. It was mid-May, but already the temperatures were consistently hitting the century mark.
As he walked toward the cottages, once again his thoughts went to the role he’d chosen to play. Initially he’d just wanted to buy himself some time, to gain enough distance from that night with Marietta in order to make sense of it all.
As soon as he’d started the pretense, he’d noticed something interesting. People talked in front of him as if he wasn’t present. It was an odd phenomenon, one he had recognized years before when they’d had a Down’s syndrome man working for them. Mark had noticed how people spoke in front of the man about things they would never confide to anyone else, as if confident he would never repeat, or understand, what they were saying.
And that was exactly what Mark was counting on now. Already he’d noticed the ranch hands spoke more freely in front of him than they ever had in the past. And in that freedom, Mark hoped to glean clues about Marietta’s murder and whatever it was she had believed threatened the very existence of the ranch.
He shoved these thoughts aside as he reached cottage number three. He was surprised as an eager anticipation surged through him.
Now that they had decided to keep the ranch running for at least three months, April and Brian would be able to stay. Somehow, he’d make sure of it. He didn’t stop to analyze why it was important to him that they remain at the ranch. It was enough that she reminded him of spring.
He shifted the basket from one hand to the other, then knocked on the door.
She answered almost immediately, and it was obvious she had recently stepped out of a shower. Her hair was curly and damp and she smelled of soap and shampoo. She was clad in a mint-colored, sleeveless shift that skimmed her slenderness and stopped just above her knees.
“Mark.” Her eyes widened as she saw him.
“I brought a surprise,” he said, and held up the basket.
“A surprise?” A tiny wrinkle furrowed her brow as she gazed first at him, then at the basket. “Please come in.” She stepped aside to allow him entry, then closed the door behind her to stop the flow of heat into the air-conditioned room.
A small suitcase was open on the sofa, revealing pastel-colored lacy things, and the sight of those feminine items caused a flutter of heat to sweep through Mark.
He set the basket on the table, wondering what it was about this particular woman that affected him on a level that nobody else had for a very long time.
He’d been invulnerable, untouchable both physically and mentally when it came to women since Rachel’s defection three years ago.
“What’s all this?” she asked, peering into the basket.
“Dinner.”
Her eyes appeared to grow impossibly luminous. “Oh,” she said softly. “Mark, you shouldn’t have done this.”
“Why not? It’s good food.” He