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Gabe landed on a pad near a barnlike structure located a couple of hundred yards from the house. A Jeep Cherokee approached as they set down. And by the time the helicopter engine died, a burly man climbed from the vehicle and waved.
“That’s Ralph,” he told Belle. “Suki’s husband, come to collect us.”
Gabe hung up his earphones and climbed from the chopper. “How’s it going, Ralph?”
“Can’t complain. We had rain yesterday.”
Gabe helped Belle from her seat. “Belle Outlaw, this is Ralph Sanderson.”
Belle offered her hand. “Mr. Sanderson.”
“Just Ralph will do, Ms. Outlaw.”
His callused hand took hers in a no-nonsense grip. He had a sweet smile and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. She judged him to be in his late fifties, maybe a bit younger.
“Just Belle will do, Ralph.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Belle’s legs wobbled a bit, and Gabe helped her to the Jeep’s front passenger seat while Ralph got their luggage and stowed it in the back. In contrast to the snowstorm that felled her, Wimberley’s weather was gorgeous: clear, sunny and mild.
She rolled the window down as Ralph drove them to the house, and caught a lovely scent. “What’s that smell?”
“Good or bad?”
She smiled. “A sweet odor.”
“You must mean the Texas mountain laurels,” Gabe said. “They’re in full bloom.”
“Oh, yes, I remember now from when I lived in Austin. The little trees with the purple clusters. We don’t have them in East Texas. I always thought they smelled like grape Kool-Aid.”
“Never thought about that,” Ralph said, “but, you know, I think you’re right. What part of East Texas are you from, Belle?”
“A little town named Naconiche, right smack in the middle of the piney woods.”
Ralph nodded. “Been through there. Beautiful area. I grew up in Fredericksburg myself.”
“Heard of it, but I’ve never been there,” Belle said. “Gabe, I don’t think I know where you grew up. In this area, was it?”
“Mostly. My first few years we lived all over the place, and when my mother and stepfather married, we settled here.”
The Jeep pulled to a stop in front of the house, which loomed even larger up close. Built of native limestone, the two-story structure spread out like a fortress on the hill and was shaded by oak trees, which were huge by Central Texas standards but would be called merely scrubs by East Texans. And the Texas mountain laurels, with their purple clusters of flowers, lined a tall fence that meandered along the foot of the hill some distance away.
“You folks go on in,” Ralph said. “I’ll get the bags.”
As Gabe helped Belle up the steps to a large veranda that ran half the length of the house, a blood-curdling scream came from inside. An older woman in tie-dyed purple garb came running from the house and threw herself at Gabe.
“Oh, Gabriel! Thank heavens you’re home. Do something! Do something!”
“Good lord, Mother!” a younger blond woman said as she charged outside, a large German shepherd at her side and a tiny, yapping Yorkie dancing behind. “We have a guest.”
“Calm down, everybody!” a third woman yelled. “I killed it with the broom!” This one, smaller and darker than the first two, hurried out still clutching the red-handled straw broom.
“Exactly what did you kill?” Gabe asked as he extricated himself from the screamer.
“A puny, little scorpion,” the executioner said. “Wasn’t even full grown.”
“But you know how I hate those awful things, Gabriel. It was in my bathroom. Why, I almost stepped on it. And the awful creature reared up and was about to attack me. I do believe it hissed at me.”
“Mother,” the blonde said, “it wasn’t going to attack, only defend. And scorpions don’t hiss.” The tall woman stuck out her hand to Belle. “Hi, I’m Skye Walker, Gabe’s sister. Welcome to Bedlam.”
Belle smiled at Skye and returned the firm handshake. Skye, who looked to be about Belle’s age, was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a faded blue jersey that advertised dog food. Even though her fair hair was cut short and she wore very little makeup—maybe lip gloss—Skye was stunning.
“Belle,” Gabe said, “this slightly hysterical woman is my mother, Flora Walker.”
“Oh, my dear,” Flora said, capturing both Belle’s hands in hers, “we’re so delighted to have you here while you recover. You have the most magnificent cheekbones. And I love your eyes. They’re the exact color of storm clouds. You must let me paint you.”
The woman with the broom cleared her throat loudly. “I’m Suki, Ralph’s wife. Now, everybody stand back, and let’s get the poor girl in off the porch. She looks a mite peaked to me. Ralph, take them bags to the guest quarters.”
“Wait!” Flora stepped in front of Ralph. “Don’t take them up yet. Have Manuel spray in there first.”
“Manuel is over at the kennel,” Skye said. “And he just sprayed two days ago.”
“Then he didn’t do a very good job. We have an infestation of scorpions.”
“Mother, one baby scorpion isn’t an infestation,” Gabe said.
“Where there’s one baby, there’s another. Or more. Those little beasties are prolific breeders.” Flora grabbed Belle’s arm. “You must be very careful, dear. Don’t put on your shoes without shaking them. They love to hide in shoes. I’ve lived here for over thirty years, and I’m still not used to them.”
If Belle had been in better form—and less polite—she would have laughed at Flora’s theatrics. “Thanks for the warning. But I’m familiar with scorpions—and worse…beasties. I’ll be careful.”
Gabe’s mother repinned the long braid that had slipped from its coil atop her wispy tendrils of gray-blond hair. “Why are we standing here on the porch? Let’s all come inside and get Belle settled. Gabe, dear, it’s good to have you home.” She tiptoed to kiss her tall son’s cheek, then sailed inside, leading the way.
Gabe glanced at Belle, shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
“I’d like to tell you that things aren’t always so chaotic around here,” he whispered, “but I’d be lying.”
“Gabriel, what terrible secrets are you whispering to our guest?” Flora asked. “Belle, would you like something to drink? The sun is over the yardarm as they say somewhere or the other. You know, I’ve never been exactly sure what a yardarm is. In any case, we can offer you coffee, tea, a soft drink or something stronger. But I suppose that you shouldn’t be drinking alcohol since you’ve been ill, though I don’t imagine that a bit of wine would hurt. We have some excellent local wines, you know. I’m fond of the white zinfandel myself. And we have all kinds of juice. Orange, apple, grape.”
“Mother,” Skye said, “you’re dithering.”
“Oh, sorry. I suppose I am.” Flora touched Belle’s arm. “I do that when I get excited. Most of the time I’m calm as a cucumber. Or is that cool? I meditate, you know. Keeps me centered and serene.”
Rather than be irritated by Flora’s dithering, Belle found herself fascinated—and a bit charmed. The woman seemed to radiate a joie de vivre that enveloped everything in her sphere.
“I like white zinfandel myself,” Belle said.
“Wonderful.” Flora clapped her hands. “A kindred spirit. Suki, do we have plenty of zinfandel?”
“I reckon so. There’s a case in the basement. Maybe two.”
“Oh, wonderful. Gabriel, you’ve had several phone calls from the office. Your secretary is fit to be tied.”
“Martha is always fit to be tied,” Skye said. “Belle, how about I show you to your room before the wine starts to flow? You might want to freshen up and rest a bit from the flight.”
“That would be great, thanks.”
The dogs accompanied them to the stairs. Skye scooped up the Yorkie. “This is Tiger. Rub his tummy, and he’s yours forever. And this fellow is Gus.” She stroked the shepherd’s head. “He’s my sidekick and is very protective of me.”
Belle held out the back of her hand to the large dog. Gus sniffed, then looked up at Skye, who nodded before he licked Belle’s hand. “German shepherds are like that. My family had one when I was a kid. Tripoli used to sleep at the foot of my bed, and he saved my bacon a couple of times.”
“We also have a couple of cats around—and assorted other creatures from time to time. I hope you’re not allergic to animals.”
“Nope,” Belle said. “Gabe already asked me. I grew up around all sorts of critters from bullfrogs to Brahma bulls.”
Skye stopped at a door upstairs. “This is the guest room. If you need anything, just give a yell. Come down when you’re ready.”
BELLE’S ROOM TURNED OUT to be rooms—a suite with a sitting room, bedroom and bath. With its soft gold-washed walls and hardwood floors, the suite, like the rest of the house she’d seen so far, looked as if a decorator had done it. The furnishings, done in creams, golds, soft blues and persimmon, were an eclectic mix of country French and contemporary with a few rustic pieces thrown in for interest. The result was quite beautiful. And expensive, she guessed. The Persian rugs looked like the real deal, and the artwork on the walls, from prints to paintings, was all signed.
Even so, the cream-colored couch looked cushy and comfortable and the king-size bed positively sumptuous and inviting. Nothing said, Don’t sit on me or put your feet on the furniture.
And the bathroom was to die for. Done in stonelike tile and accented in the same colors as the rest of the suite, it had a glass-enclosed shower and a bathtub with jets. A real tub. She’d had nothing but sponge baths and showers for ages. Her sore muscles and aching bones would love this.
Before she did anything else, she started the water running in the tub and added a bit of lavender scent she found on the ledge. By the time she’d located a change of clothes and her shampoo, the tub had filled. She stripped and climbed in.
Ah, heaven. She could get used to this.
A LOUD BANGING on the door roused Belle.
“You okay in there?” a woman yelled.
It sounded like Suki. Belle noticed that the jets were still running, but the water had grown cool.
“I’m fine,” she called. “Thanks. Just a minute.” She punched off the jets, climbed from the tub and wrapped a persimmon-colored bathsheet around her before she opened the door.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Suki said, “but we was worried about you, you being sick and all.”
“No problem. I couldn’t resist that tub, and I fell asleep.”
“Supper’s in an hour. You want me to bring a tray up to you?”
“Oh, no. I’ll dress and be right down.”
“We don’t fancy up for meals around here except on special occasions. Just put on whatever you’re comfortable in and come on down. We’ll eat on the sunporch at the back of the house. You like tamales?”
“I adore tamales.”
“Good. That’s what we’re having. Maria makes some of the best ones in these parts, and she knows how Gabe loves them. Course Skye’s a vegetarian, and Miz Flora is almost one—she only eats chicken and fish—so they’ll be having something else. I don’t guess you’re a vegetarian?”
“Nope. I like steak too much.”
Suki laughed. “Me, too. And pork chops. And did you ever try to eat chili without any meat in it?”
“Not lately.”
“Let me tell you, it’s not the same with that tofu stuff. Maria—she does most of the cooking—can do wonders with just about anything, but even she can’t perform miracles. You need any help getting dressed?”
“No, I’m fine,” Belle said. “I’ll be down in a shake.”
Suki left and Belle finished drying off and dressed in khakis, loafers and a blue cotton sweater. A shampoo would have to wait. She brushed her hair, wound it and clipped it up, then slapped on a bit of makeup. In ten minutes, she was on her way downstairs.
She followed the sound of voices from the back of the house to a large den with big leather couches and the same eclectic mix of furniture. A fire was burning in the oversized stone fireplace—more for the ambience, Belle suspected, than for warmth.
Gabe, sipping from a drink, stood with his back to the fire. Skye, perched on a couch arm, had a wineglass, as did Flora, who was relaxing in a wing-backed chair. Gus lay at Skye’s feet, Tiger and a cat lay napping together by the fire, and another cat dozed in Flora’s lap.
Gabe noticed her first and smiled. “Feeling better?”
“Absolutely. Sorry I conked out. I couldn’t believe I went to sleep when I slept most of the way here.”
“Don’t apologize,” Skye said. “It’s perfectly natural. Your body is still recovering, and sleep is a great healer.”
“You just make yourself at home, dear, and think of us as family,” Flora said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“I’d love one.”
“Gabe?” Flora said.
“Zinfandel?” he asked Belle.
She nodded and went to stand near the space that Gabe left. When he returned with her glass, she said, “I love the fire.”
“Me, too,” Gabe said. “We won’t be able to enjoy it much longer, but while the nights are still cool, we’re using the last of the firewood.”
“Ha!” Skye said. “Don’t let him kid you. My brother’s been known to light a fire and turn on the air-conditioning.”
Gabe grinned. “Guilty.”
“Belle,” Flora said, “Gabe tells us that you’re a spy. I don’t think I’ve ever known a real spy. How very fascinating!”
Gabe shook his head. “I didn’t say that she was a spy. I said that she was an FBI agent.”
“Well, isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not really,” Belle said. “You might be thinking of the CIA.”
“CIA, FBI, SPCA. I get all those initials mixed up.” Flora held out her glass toward Gabe. “May I have just a tad more? Anyhow, I think it’s exciting. What exactly does an agent do?”
Skye looked amused.
