Gerrie Nelson - Lab Notes

Where was everyone? Housekeeper? Wife? Cow punchers? She suddenly felt vulnerable.

Leonard Everly seemed perfectly charming. But she had always trusted her instincts, and right then they were screaming: Get up and leave, Diane. You don’t know this man. You don’t owe him any courtesy that goes against your better judgment.

Just then Everly arrived with a smile and two frosty mugs. He was accompanied by a streamlined male Ridgeback whose chest came up to Diane’s knees.

Leonard placed the tea and a napkin on a small table beside Diane while the dog sniffed her shoes and slacks.

“He’s magnificent. What’s his name?”

“He has a fancy registered name. But I call him Hunter. He’s the father of Phoenix’s litter.”

Hunter permitted Diane to scratch the ridge down his back while he leaned into her legs. Her paranoia dissolved. Puppies and tea. Nothing sinister here.

Everly settled into a chair to her right, crossed his well-used boots out in front of her and looked admiringly at his dog. “Ridgebacks shed very infrequently. But Hunter’s going through a little shedding stage. Some hairs might show up on those slacks of yours.” Knowing he was the topic of conversation, Hunter abandoned Diane to step over and lean against his master’s legs.

“It’s so peaceful here,” Diane said. “How lucky you are to live in such a paradise.”

“I’m comfortable here. But I’ve noticed the solitude wears thin for city folk like yourself.”

“I can’t imagine a person ever getting tired of it. Has this property been in your family for generations?”

“Yes, you might say that.”

“It must have been wonderful for a boy growing up here.”

“I think I’ve given you the wrong impression. I never saw the inside of the big house,” he gestured toward the double-door entry, “until ten years ago, just before I bought the ranch.

“My grandfather and my father were horse trainers here all their lives. So mine was not a childhood full of ridin’ horses and ropin’ calves and shootin’ dove for fun. I got to clean out the deer blinds and oil the guns and serve the barbeque during huntin’ season. And often I traveled with my dad when he took the horses to compete at rodeos.

“Dad always had a wad of chew in his mouth, manure on his boots and ring dust everywhere else. So, he wasn’t permitted inside the owner’s travel trailer. We camped out with the Mexican immigrants who tended the horses.

“My granddad and my dad trained champions, and they were proud of their accomplishments. But growing up watching them choke on the dust of a thousand rodeos, I vowed again and again that I would not follow in their bootsteps.”

Everly looked out across his ranch toward the far horizon. His jaw tightened and he said, “I was born on the land but not to the land. Nevertheless, it’s always been in my blood. My desire to own this ranch has driven me to great successes in some areas of my life and to dismal failures in others…”

Moments passed, then he snapped his head toward Diane as if discovering, for the first time, that she was sitting there on the porch with him.

“Sorry, I get long-winded at times. I don’t get a lot of visitors out here.”

“It’s a fascinating story. Thank you for sharing it.”

Everly leaned forward and studied her for several seconds. Suddenly ill at ease, not knowing exactly where Everly was looking, she drummed her fingers in her lap and strained to think of how to direct the conversation to the real reason for her visit.

“You know, you’re real easy to talk to,” he said in a slow drawl.

Diane acknowledged his compliment with a forced smile.

Everly settled back in his chair and scratched behind Hunter’s ear. “There’s something you should know. The Ridgeback breed ain’t happy if they’re left at home alone. You a career lady?”

Was it her imagination? Or had his speech slowed and acquired a cowboy drawl? But accent or not, he had given her a perfect opening; it was time to come clean. She moved her lips, but nothing came out.

Blocked by an inner struggle, she tried reasoning with herself: He liked to talk about his dogs and his ranch; if she opened up a dialogue, maybe he’d tell the story about the Peruvase sale. She could act grateful for the sizable bonus she and Vincent had received. Then he might drop the name of a pharmaceutical company.

Doreen was right; he was a nice guy. Go ahead. Tell him what you do for a living and where. Bellfort might be upset if he found out she’d talked with Dr. Everly. But she had the perfect cover. She and Huck were lonely. They wanted a puppy.

Too much time had passed. The lines had crinkled at the corners of Leonard Everly’s eyes, but his lips weren’t smiling. His glance burned through his reflective lenses. He was scrutinizing her, hard.

Diane feigned a cough, then said, “I work with plants.” If only she could see his eyes. She dabbed her mouth with the paper napkin. “I own a plant nursery. I can take a puppy to work with me. He’ll get a lot of attention.” Coward.

Everly nodded; he seemed satisfied. He gestured toward her wedding ring. “What does your husband do?”

Diane wasn’t sure, but she thought she flinched. “He’s a salesman, a boat salesman.” Her answer surprised her.

“Good career. Keeps you near the water. I’ve always been torn between fishin’ and huntin.’ Down here I have the best of both worlds. I hunt on the ranch and fish down at the bay or out in the Gulf.”

Diane spotted a dust cloud on the horizon and saw an opportunity to change the subject. “Is that one of those dust devils they talk about?”

“No. That’s my ranch manager returning.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, I’m expectin’ him to bring back my truck with some new tires on it. And anyone I can see drivin’ on any horizon, north, south, east or west, is on my land.”

Diane pondered the enormity of the ranch while they both watched a four-door, gray pick-up truck approach in a brown cloud and pull around the driveway to the foot of the stairs. Like a lot of trucks she had seen on the road, the pick-up sported a shotgun on a rack across the back window.

Everly stood and walked over to the stairs to greet his employee. A cowboy off a movie set stepped from the truck and tossed a set of keys toward the porch.

Later, Diane would recall how the universe went into slow motion.

The ball of keys arced high over the truck, then changed shape and descended, all askew, toward the waiting hand of Leonard Everly. They landed with a ka-ching at Diane’s eye level, everything neatly contained in Leonard Everly’s enormous palm. That is, everything except the large key ring pendant.

Two brushed-gold hemispheres, connected by a wide black enamel band, adorned with pave’ diamonds, dangled over the side of Everly’s hand in flagrant display.

At first, Diane thought how beautiful it would look on a chain around her neck. Then the pendant turned.

At that precise moment, a spark of sunlight pierced through the trees and glinted off the gems. And in that nanosecond, Diane saw the dusting of diamonds spell out the name TekTranz .

Her stunned gaze remained fixed on the dangling medallion—until Leonard jerked it into his palm with startling ferocity and concealed it inside a white-knuckled fist. Diane drew back and glanced up at him.

Everly tore off his sunglasses and looked down at her with an icy blue stare, steady and analytical as though looking through a microscope—or a gun sight.

Time to leave.

Leonard Everly watched from the porch as the dark blue Suburban hurriedly backed out of the parking space.

Earl, the ranch manager, stood with one boot resting on the bottom step. “She sure had a bee up her butt. Was it somethin’ I said?”