Chapter Six #2
He was Beau Jones. A quiet, small-town country doctor deep in debt to a commune wouldn’t hold much appeal for a famous musician. Especially not when the commune was also holding him prisoner. She understood that, even if no one else in Burning Scrub apparently did.
But this was her first contact with someone from the outside world in over six months, and, suddenly, she was more than a little afraid that after five years of exposure, with no say in her life, she might begin to buy into Benny’s conspiracy theories herself.
Intelligence and education weren’t enough protection against indoctrination.
Her dad, a professor, had bought into someone else’s ideals—although greed, too, factored in.
There was no reason for her not to be friendly.
She dredged a tray out of one of the cupboards, dusted it off, then arranged a single plate on it.
She topped the plate with a bowl, added a spoon, knife, and fork, then wondered what to do about a napkin, because she was all out of the paper ones that Adam smuggled in for the women. A clean dish cloth would have to do.
After that, the whole arrangement looked bare, and Belle wanted things to look pretty, so she picked a few flowers from one of the window boxes and tucked them in an empty liniment bottle she found on a shelf in the clinic.
She fussed with those for a bit, killing time, then checked the grandmother clock on the mantel above the kitchen fireplace.
Fifteen minutes had passed. She debated heading upstairs.
She’d hoped Jayce would leave first, but she was growing impatient.
How long did it take to install one simple lock?
*
Beau
Beau wondered who’d come up with the idea for the lock on the good doctor’s bedroom door. If it was hers, he understood. A woman had a right to feel safe in her own home, and despite being somewhat well-known, he was a stranger.
But he had a suspicion it was Marlboro Man’s, and the motive wasn’t driven by a fear for Belle’s safety as much as it was to send a message to Beau. Keep your hands off.
He leaned against the bedroom doorframe, mindful to keep the weight off his freshly taped ankle, then prepared to yank the guy’s chain while he worked on Belle’s door.
The hallway was narrow, so there wasn’t a whole lot of space between the two men.
Somewhere below them, doors opened and closed.
It sounded as if Belle might be tossing and looting the place.
“So,” Beau said, “are you and the doctor a couple?”
Jayce dropped a screw. It rolled into one of the cracks between the wide pine planks of the floor.
“Not exactly.”
He tried to pick the screw free with the tip of another. After a few failed attempts, he gave it up as a lost cause, found another, and got back to work. Seconds ticked by, making it apparent he had no interest in pursuing the topic.
Which, of course, made the topic worth pursuing for Beau. “What, exactly, are you, then?”
Jayce’s sunny demeanor lost a third of its shine. “Does it matter?”
“Just curious if she’s in a relationship, is all.”
Jayce tightened the final screw on the dead bolt with excessive force, then changed the subject.
“Love your music.” He didn’t sound as sincere about that as Beau thought he had earlier on. “Maybe you can sing for us while you’re here. Try out some new songs. The whole community gets together a few evenings a week, and we’re always looking for new entertainment.”
Beau tried to imagine what they might consider entertainment and decided it was best not to go there. “What kind of ranch are you people running? This doesn’t look like the Ponderosa to me.” The Dutton ranch, maybe. Circa 1850.
Jayce tidied his toolbox with an impressive attention to detail. “Have you seen many ranches?”
Not in New Jersey. “I mostly see the insides of buses, airports, and honky-tonks.”
“So, you’ve got no real-life reference point for how they should look.”
He had Beau there. “Afraid not.”
Jayce clipped the lid into place and straightened, toolbox in hand. “Which is why you’re here. To learn what a real ranch is like. For starters, Adam and I are going to take you horseback riding this weekend. Ever been on a horse before?”
“Do merry-go-rounds count?”
Jayce laughed and Beau found himself almost liking the guy.
“I realize we didn’t get off to a great start but give us a chance.
Believe it or not, people pay big money to come here.
It’s peaceful—a great place to find inspiration for new country music material.
Trust me, two months from now, you’ll be thanking your agent. You won’t want to leave.”
Beau had his doubts, but he rewound recent events and tried to be fair. He’d passed out at the airport. It could have been something he ate. Also, the past months had been busy and stressful, and he’d been running on fumes. He might well have picked up a bug.
Then, he woke up in what appeared to be an old Western town.
That wasn’t as easy to explain. Belle’s dress and button-up boots had to be costumes, because she wasn’t wearing them now.
Adam and Jayce wore boots and jeans—which had been in fashion forever—so those could be costumes, too.
So far, the only person here who had serial killer written all over him was Adam.
Everyone else just seemed somewhat … odd.
Oddballs in costume, who belonged to a community that got together a few times a week. Factor in Benny, the old man in charge…
“Hotel California” started up in his head. The pieces began to fall into place.
“Oh my God,” Beau said. “Leon sold me out to a cult.”
Surprise slackened Jayce’s impeccable jaw. “A cult? Where did you come up with that? We run a Wild West theme park.”
Full-bodied relief blended in with the throbbing pain of his ankle.
He’d played in a variety of venues in the run of his offbeat career, and a theme park made a weird sort of sense.
His knowledge of anything Western might be hazy, but he did know that old ghost towns, from California to Canada, equaled tourist traps.
These people had the trap part down pat. He wasn’t sure how the ranch part fit in. That could well have been Leon not knowing what he was talking about.
But a few hours on horseback might be a good way to show everyone what a lousy cowboy he’d make.
“I can see the need for cowboys. I can also see the need to have a few women in a Western-themed park, too.” Benny would forever remain a mystery to him.
“But what’s the deal with the doctor?” Because he’d fixated on her and couldn’t help asking.
“Belle isn’t playing a role. She’s a real doctor, and there can’t have been too many women doctors in the Wild West.”
“There were a few.” Beau’s raised eyebrows and poignant silence prompted Jayce to go on. “But we live here year-round, and we’re pretty isolated. We needed a doctor, especially for the children, and Benny’s not getting any younger, so Adam found Belle for us. He’s head of procurement.”
Procurement was an excellent position for Adam, because being scary clearly paid off.
Whatever he wanted he got. His choice of Belle for the town doctor was somewhat of a surprise, although upon further consideration, she seemed easy enough to push around.
She wouldn’t have made it past the first round on Diss Cord.
But it was the isolated part that really caught Beau’s attention.
“Where is this theme park located?” he asked.
He tried not to sound worried, or suspicious, or like a man intent on escape, because even though he’d already decided to stay, he needed to make sure that in two months, he could leave.
You can check out any time you like…
Jayce was shaking his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
“A top-secret theme park? No offense, but your business plan sucks.”
Jayce’s smile reemerged, its full wattage restored, as if he found Beau’s opinion amusing. “We do okay.”
Light footsteps approached. Jayce’s ears literally perked up, like a hound on a scent.
Seconds later, Belle appeared at the top of the stairs.
She carried a tray of food that smelled amazing.
She’d added a drooping fistful of flowers, crammed into a flat blue bottle with a skinny neck, for adornment.
Beau’s vocal cords threatened to strangle themselves at the sight. The small attempt on her part to pretty things up made him feel a whole hell of a lot better. Such a sweet, simple gesture. When was the last time someone had done something thoughtful for him, just to be nice?
“Supper,” she said.
Jayce dropped the toolbox and sprang into action. “Here. Let me get that for you.” He took the tray from Belle’s hands.
Beau was more intent on watching Belle, who didn’t appear all that impressed by the display of rampant male chivalry—although other than a slight clench of her teeth, she kept it well hidden.
Nope. Not a couple.
Jayce jiggled the tray, drawing attention to it, and endangering the small bottle of flowers in the process.
Beau, who’d been blocking the bedroom door while admiring the way the early evening light from the window over the stairs highlighted Belle’s hair, finally got the message and limped out of the way.
Jayce shouldered past him and set the tray on the table next to the bed. Then he adjusted the flowers and rearranged the flatware, for no apparent good reason, because Belle continued to politely ignore his heroics.
What a shame Marlboro Man was going to get his heart broken—assuming the soft-spoken doctor ever worked up the nerve to break it on him. Beau almost felt bad. They were both so damn nice.
Then he remembered that he was the victim.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” Belle said to him.
Jayce abandoned his artistic arrangement. “I’ll join you.” He followed Belle to the stairs. “See you Saturday morning,” he called to Beau.
“We ride at dawn,” Beau said, nodding.