Chapter 9
The big house on the Newland Ranch, a two-story structure with a long plank porch and a half-dozen gabled dormers, was known in town as “the Mollison Place,” and by the family simply as “Mollison.” The name derived from Iris Newland’s grandfather, Henry Mollison, who had built it in 1927. The precocious son of a Crescent Bluff barber, Henry fought bravely in World War I but was discharged with a Purple Heart after losing an arm in the Battle of Belleau Wood. Upon recovering, he told his father that, since he couldn’t earn a living with his hands, he’d have to live by his wits. At twenty-five, Henry boarded a train for New York to try his luck on Wall Street. He returned three years later with a Yankee wife, a baby, and enough money to buy an 8,000-acre ranch and 500 head of cattle.
Henry’s run of good luck was short-lived, however. Two years after moving his young family onto the new homestead, he lost his investments in the Crash and was forced to sell the ranch, at a greatly reduced price, to Claud Newland, a prosperous grocer from Amarillo who wanted to get into the cattle business. With few options, Henry took work doing odd jobs in his father’s shop. He consoled himself with bathtub gin and gambling, and, in 1938, having betted away the proceeds from the ranch, he put a shotgun in his mouth, leaving his wife and young son destitute.
This ancestral humiliation soaked deep into the psyche of Henry’s granddaughter. Iris Mollison grew up poor with a fierce determination to reclaim her birthright, and it was no secret in town that when, in 1970, she married Bryant Newland, grandson of Claud and heir to the ranch, it was for that purpose.
Iris never regretted the decision. Bryant, though a cruel and abusive husband and father, was a shrewd businessman. He foresaw the potential for wind power in West Texas and built a turbine manufacturing company that transformed him from moderately successful rancher to biggest employer in the region.
“Your mom’s such a strong woman. Why does she put up with your dad’s crap when she could walk away?” Colly had asked Randy early in their relationship.
“Momma’s married more to the ranch than to Dad. She’ll never leave it,” was Randy’s blunt reply.
“She’d have plenty of money in a divorce.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about winning back what the universe took. In Texas, what matters is land.”
Randy had been right. For forty years, Iris had waited quietly in the shadows, controlling what she could and enduring what she couldn’t. And, in the end, her patience was rewarded. With Bryant’s death a decade earlier, the universe had folded its cards and walked away from the table, leaving Iris to her patrimony.
Although her son Lowell, who had worked under Bryant for years, continued to oversee the turbine plant’s day-to-day operations, Iris was the undisputed head of the Newland family and the legal owner of both ranch and business. She’d paid close attention from the sidelines to her husband’s professional dealings, and now, to everyone’s surprise, she insisted on the final say in all major decisions. Under her direction, Newland Wind Industries invested in major upgrades and was on track to expand its business greatly. Recently, the deaths of Randy and Victoria had caused Iris to withdraw a bit, and in her grief, her attention to the business had wavered. But according to Russ, his mother was beginning to show an interest once again.
Bryant had been a tightfisted man. During his lifetime, Mollison had fallen somewhat into disrepair. But after his death, Iris poured resources into the place, adding a pool, tennis courts, and guest annex, and remodeling the original structure into a showpiece that had been featured in style and architecture magazines.
Now, riding in Brenda’s van up the juniper-shaded avenue that climbed the hill to the house, Colly felt the familiar mixture of intimidation and dull resentment tightening her throat. Even before Randy’s death, she’d experienced the burden of Iris’s judgment.
“Why does your mom dislike me?” she’d asked as they lay in bed one night after a holiday visit to the ranch.
“It’s nothing personal. I’m the only one of her boys she hasn’t wrangled back to Crescent Bluff.” Randy caressed Colly’s shoulder, letting his fingers drift down her arm. “If I hadn’t met you, she thinks she could’ve lured me home.”
You’re home now, my love , Colly thought as Mollison’s gabled roofline appeared above the junipers. But not the way your mother wanted. Not the way any of us wanted. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.
Brenda glanced over. “You okay?”
“So-so.”
“At least it’s a school night. We’ll have an excuse to leave early. Just stay off politics or we’ll never get away. Lowell’s drinking is worse, and he’s turned completely rabid on immigration—though half the ranch hands are undocumented. Wonderful people, and so hardworking. But self-awareness isn’t Lowell’s strong suit.”
The sun was slipping behind the distant mesas as they pulled onto the gravel drive in front of the house. Alice’s hatchback was there, as well as Russ’s SUV and Lowell’s truck with the company logo on the door. Off to the side stood a black Cadillac that Colly didn’t recognize.
“Oh Lord, she invited the judge.” Brenda parked a little away from the others and killed the engine.
“Who’s that?”
“Iris’s arm candy.”
“Her what ?”
“Russ didn’t tell you? Iris has been seeing someone, though she swears they’re just friends. He was a judge in Odessa, but he retired out here.”
“Heavens. How’d they meet? Please don’t say eHarmony.”
Brenda laughed. “Ballroom dancing society—a hundred-percent geriatric. They get together in the fellowship hall of some church in Big Spring twice a month.”
“What’s he like?”
“Nice enough.” Brenda checked her makeup in the visor’s mirror, dabbing at her lip with her little finger. “Mild-mannered, a tad smarmy. Your basic lapdog.”
“Doesn’t seem like Iris’s type.”
“I don’t know. Bryant was an alpha male, and he treated her like dirt. Makes sense she’d want someone she can control this time around.”
Colly unbuckled her seatbelt as she absorbed this information. She’d always seen Iris as something of an archetype—the cool, judgmental mother-in-law, the cunning spider in the center of the family web—not a fully rounded human being. Not someone who might be lonely. Colly felt a twinge of shame but reflexively pushed it away. She needed to stay focused.
“Oh, there’s Russ,” Brenda said.
Colly looked around. Her brother-in-law had emerged from the breezeway between the house and garage and was striding towards them, a half-dozen ranch dogs at his heels. He had changed out of his uniform into Wranglers and a pastel-yellow Oxford. His sleeves were rolled up, and she glimpsed the tattoo on his inner right forearm—Randy’s name in a simple, flowing script.
Colly took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Hey,” Russ said. “Saw y’all through the—wow.” His eyebrows shot up as Colly climbed out of the van. “You look great.” He winced. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound so surprised.”
Colly laughed, stooping to pet a half-grown border collie. “Thanks, Russ. I knew what you meant. You look nice, too.”
He checked his watch. “The kids aren’t back from riding yet. Come around and say hi. Then we can run down to Willis’s cabin before supper.”
He led them through the breezeway to a stone patio encircling a pool landscaped to look like a tropical lagoon, with areca palms clustered around the edges and a waterfall burbling into the deep end. Nearby, Iris, Lowell, and a plump elderly man with a white goatee sat on lounge chairs in the fading light, sipping cocktails. Iris and the goateed man stood when they saw the new arrivals, but Lowell remained seated, glowering sullenly into his glass.
He’s in a fine mood , Colly thought. Going to be a long evening.
Iris, tall and elegant as ever, approached with open arms. “Ah, Columba, welcome.” She was dressed in linen slacks and a gold lamé blouse. Colly was startled to see how much she had aged in two years. Her cheekbones, always prominent, now stood out like sharp ridges, and her eyes seemed more sunken than before, an impression accentuated by her dark mascara. Only her hair was unchanged—silver-gray and cut in a fashionable shag.
They hugged, and Colly could feel the bones in her mother-in-law’s shoulders and spine. “Hello, Iris. You look beautiful as always.”
Iris’s eyes narrowed, as if she were trying to determine whether the comment had been meant sarcastically. “You, as well. Retirement agrees with you.” She held Colly at arm’s length. “What a lovely dress. You’ve expanded your repertoire.”
Over Iris’s shoulder, Colly saw Brenda roll her eyes.
“I appreciate your coming out here, dear,” Iris was saying.
“Happy to help.”
As Iris turned to greet Brenda, Colly noticed Russ gesticulating angrily for his brother to get up and join them. When Lowell ignored him, Russ strode across the patio, and the two men whispered furiously together. There had always been antagonism between Russ and Lowell, but this seemed to be about more than the usual sibling friction.
Finally, Lowell swallowed the rest of his drink and pulled himself to his feet. He was a few years younger than Russ, stocky and bull-necked, with a blunt, slightly crooked nose and thinning hair, for which he compensated with a full, dark beard. He’d made no effort to dress for dinner and wore ratty jeans and a work shirt with “Newland Wind Industries” stitched on the pocket.
Lowell gave Colly a perfunctory hug, and nodded, stone-faced, to Brenda before dropping back into his chair with a grunt.
Oblivious to the familial drama, Iris took Colly’s arm and introduced the goateed man as Judge Talford Maybrey.
Pink-faced and slightly pear-shaped, Maybrey reminded Colly of Colonel Sanders, minus the white linen suit. Blinking through horn-rimmed glasses, he murmured a polite greeting and surprised Colly by raising her hand to his lips for a moist kiss. She had to resist the urge to wipe her knuckles on her dress.
“Sit down, you three,” Iris said. “Care for a drink? My housekeeper makes a marvelous old-fashioned.”
“Iced tea for me.” Brenda settled herself into a chair at some distance from Lowell.
Russ rubbed the back of his neck. “Momma, we thought we’d run down to the cabin before dark. Colly wants to look at the scene.”
A flicker of pain showed in Iris’s face, but her voice remained placid. “Of course, dear. We’ll eat at seven.”
“Not so terrible, eh?” Russ grinned as they followed a flagstone path through a thicket of still-bare crape myrtles on the other side of the pool.
Not if you enjoy catty microaggressions , Colly thought. “What do you mean?”
Beyond the thicket, the path skirted the tennis courts and wound down a grassy slope.
“C’mon, admit you were dreading this.” Russ prodded her good-naturedly with his elbow as they started down the hill.
Having lowered her emotional defenses on the drive from town, however, Colly intended to keep them fully raised while here. “Remind your mother that I’m not retired. I’m taking a break, figuring out what I want to do next.”
Russ chuckled. “Fine, change the subject.”
Colly ignored him. “What was that about with Lowell?”
“His usual jackassedness. He’s got the emotional maturity of a toddler who missed naptime.”
“Seemed like more than that.”
“Forget it.” Russ waved dismissively. “What’s your impression of the judge?”
“Now who’s changing the subject?” Colly muttered. Whatever was going on between the brothers, Russ definitely didn’t want to talk about it. “The judge seems okay.”
Russ smiled. “He is, as long as you don’t get him going about his stamp collection. Lowell can’t stand him, thinks he’s a gold-digger.”
“You don’t?”
“I ran a credit and background check. Talford’s legit. Momma needed someone. Been a hellish couple of years—losing Randy and Victoria, and now Willis, too.”
Colly said nothing. She tried to keep her eyes on the path but felt them inexorably drawn to a distant spot on the hillside, where, beneath a spreading oak, a cluster of white stones glimmered in the twilight. Such a tranquil scene , she thought numbly. In a few weeks, it would be covered with bluebonnets waving cheerfully in the breeze—as if nothing but joy could be associated with that place.
Russ followed her gaze, then dropped his arm across her shoulders and drew her against his side. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking when I came this way.” He hesitated. “Long as we’re here, want to go visit them?”
For a moment, Colly almost turned to bury her face in his shoulder. But she couldn’t afford to feel anything right now. A breeze ruffled her hair. She inhaled sharply, catching the fresh, chalky scent of the scrublands all around.
“Maybe later,” she said and pulled away.