Page 41 of The Killing Plains

Talford beamed. “Commissioned it from a fellow in Santa Fe. Spot-on likeness, isn’t it?”

Colly squinted up at the portrait. Even to her untrained eye, the quality of the work was unmistakable. It vibrated with energy. The artist had seen past the surface of Iris’s placid charm and with a few, swift strokes of the palette knife had captured the fierce hunger behind the eyes, the imperious pride in the cambered smile. It was not a warm portrayal, nor a comforting one. The woman on the canvas was intimidating. Frightening, even. Colly could see why Iris loved it.

“It’s remarkable,” she murmured, taking an unconscious step back.

“I’m so pleased you like it.” Iris seemed about to say more but was interrupted by a commotion in the hallway. A second later, the children burst into the room, with Alice and Brenda following.

“Grandma!” Satchel’s normally pallid face glowed rosy pink. He ran to Colly and began hopping excitedly, reaching up to pat her cheeks with his fingertips, a habit he’d developed as a toddler when he wanted her attention. “We rode horses—mine was a black-and-white one named Maisie. Alice showed me how to hold the reins. She says I’m a really good rider. Then Grandma Iris let us go swimming.”

“I see that.” Colly smiled. “Your shirt’s inside out. And goodness, your hair.” It was still damp and sticking out in all directions. She smoothed it with her fingers.

“Sorry, Aunt Colly,” Alice said. “We tried to comb it, but he was too wiggly.”

“Come on, buddy.” Colly took Satchel’s hand. “Let’s sort you out before dinner.”

Colly led him to the bathroom as he continued to chatter happily. “This is the best place in the whole world. I wish we could stay forever.”

“This morning you couldn’t wait to get back to Houston. Arms up.” Colly pulled off his shirt.

“It’sfunhere. Grandma Iris says I can stay the whole summer with her, sometime.”

“She did, huh?” Flushing with annoyance, Colly turned the shirt right side out and popped it back over Satchel’s head, then searched through drawers for a comb.

“Why’re you mad?” he asked.

“I’m not.”

“You’re doing that thing with your teeth.”

“I’m concentrating.” Colly worked to relax her jaw. “Now, will youpleasehold still for two seconds and let me fix your hair.”

Chapter 12

Dinner at the ranch was a strange mixture of informality and refinement. Once Alice and the younger children were settled in the den with plates of food and a Disney film, Iris led the adults to the dining room, where a rustic trestle table was covered, somewhat incongruously, with a fine Belgian lace cloth and Iris’s best bone china. Wrought-iron candelabras on either end of the table cast long shadows on the walls and lent an ominously gothic feel to the evening.

Colly, who had hoped for a casual cookout on the patio, took her seat with trepidation. Since Randy and Victoria’s deaths, she’d grown increasingly lax regarding household routine and was now largely accustomed to takeout dinners in front of the television. Here, she felt strangely awkward with a linen napkin on her knee and an array of forks and spoons to manage. But the roast beef, grilled vegetables, and warm yeast rolls proved homely and comforting; the wine was good; and the conversation remained surprisingly pleasant.

Before they’d sat down, Iris had announced firmly, “I don’t want to hear one word about politics or family drama during dinner—there are far too many sharp implements on this table.”

This had produced a laugh and set the tone for the meal. Everyone kept to pleasant small talk except for Lowell. He sat,interacting with no one, chewing sullenly with his napkin tucked into his collar and his sunburned forearms on the table. Colly noticed that Russ was watching him closely, frowning as his brother polished off a bottle of Shiraz by himself. The excessive drinking was worrisome, but at least it was keeping Lowell occupied, and Colly hoped Russ wouldn’t interfere.

Dessert and coffee were served on the patio. “I love it out here this time of year,” Iris said as Nadine, the dour-looking housekeeper, passed around cups of French roast and bowls of warm bread pudding topped with vanilla ice cream. “No mosquitos yet and not too muggy. Which reminds me, Brenda dear—Nadine and I have been spring cleaning. We’ve got some more things for the thrift shop, if you wouldn’t mind taking them.”

“Weather’s nicenow,” Russ snorted, “but it was hotter than Hades tromping around outside today.”

“Rattler weather,” Lowell muttered, slurring the words. “They’re coming out to bask. Already had a dog bit.” He shook his head when Nadine tried to hand him a cup of coffee and held up a tumbler of bourbon he had carried from the house.

Nadine offered the cup instead to Colly. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Colly thought that the housekeeper was staring at her with an odd mixture of apprehension and resentment.

“Time for the Rodeo. Looking forward to some good old-fashioned fried rattler, myself.” Talford patted his belly with both hands.

Colly dropped her spoon. “You eat those things?”

Russ chuckled. “We’re heathens in West Texas. Can’t believe you’ve avoided the Rattlesnake Rodeo all these years.”

“Randy always pestered me to go, but I draw the line at pits of deadly vipers.”

“Rattlers aren’t bad, if you handle them properly,” Brenda said. “We had a blast on the snake hunt last weekend. It was the kids’ first time.”

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