From the moment she got in the car Brenda had talked endlessly, about her parents, her siblings, her job, her ex-husband, her hiking vacation to the Canadian Rockies, and anything else that just popped into her pretty head. In Santa Fe, Brenda’s prattle turned to making hints about expensive items that caught her eye in the jewelry stores and boutiques on the Plaza and complaints about how she didn’t like being left alone while Johnny took care of his business dealings.
Earlier in the day, realizing there was no way he could face driving Brenda back to Denver, Johnny had sent her off window shopping on the pretext that he had to make some confidential phone calls to clients. When she got back to the hotel room, he greeted her with a worried look and a tale that his father had just suffered a stroke at his ranch on the Bootheel. In fact, despite his eighty-three years, there was nothing wrong with his father, other than a recent hip replacement.
“I’m so sorry.” Brenda stepped close and hugged Johnny. “Will he be all right?”
Johnny shook his head gravely. “I don’t know, but I have to get down there right away.”
“Of course, family comes first.” Brenda drew her head back, looked up at Johnny, and bit her lip. “But you’re not going to leave me stranded here, are you?”
Johnny smiled. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re booked on a flight to Denver this afternoon. I’ll take you to the airport.”
Brenda’s expression lightened. “Thank you.”
“Sorry about the change in plans,” Johnny said.
Brenda shook her curly locks. “It’s not your fault. What is the Bootheel, anyway?”
“It’s a strip of land in the southwest corner of the state that butts into Mexico. It’s shaped like the heel of a boot.”
“And your father owns it?” Brenda asked with great interest.
Johnny laughed. “Not all of it by a long shot, but a pretty fair chunk.”
“What time is my flight?”
“Five-thirty.”
Brenda pressed hard against him and her hand found his crotch. “That’s hours from now. Is there anything I can do to ease your worries?”
Johnny responded by slipping his hand down the front of her blouse, and Brenda spent the next half hour consoling him with her mouth and body.
At the airport Brenda’s flight had been delayed because of the snowstorm, so Johnny forced himself to sit with her outside the boarding area, even though she protested that she would be fine on her own. He’d learned a long time ago to leave women feeling happy and cared about, especially if you had no intention of ever seeing them again. It caused much less trouble that way.
Because the Santa Fe Airport served only turboprop commercial carriers and private airplanes, the terminal was small. In the public area, a space with high-beamed ceilings, tile floors, and hand-carved Southwestern chairs, about twenty passengers, along with a few spouses and friends, waited for the last flight out to Denver.
From where Johnny sat with Brenda, he could see the tarmac. The in-bound flight from Denver had just taxied to the ramp area. Soon he’d be shed of her, and the thought made him want to smile, but he stifled the impulse. When the gate agent announced that boarding would begin in a few minutes, Johnny stood, bent over, and gave Brenda a kiss.
“Thanks for being so understanding,” he said.
“You’ve been so quiet,” Brenda said, kissing him back.
Johnny gave her a solemn look. “You know, just thinking about my father.” In truth, he’d used the fabricated family catastrophe to tune Brenda out. Actually, his only worry was whether or not over dinner he’d be able to talk Kevin Kerney into participating in a deal he’d just sewn up. Kerney had been an obstinate, straitlaced kid back in the old days on the Jornada, who’d occasionally dressed him down for his fun-loving ways. But what Johnny had in mind shouldn’t get Kerney’s ire up. It was a straight business deal with some good money built into it.
Brenda stood, kissed him again, patted his arm, and nodded understandingly.
“I’ll call when I can,” he said.
She buzzed his cheek with her lips and pranced toward the boarding area, looking pert and yummy in her tight jeans. She threw him a smile over her shoulder, and Johnny smiled back, thinking it was a real pity that she liked to talk as much as she liked to party.
Popular with the well-heeled set, the restaurant Johnny had picked wasn’t one of Kerney’s favorite places. Although the food was good, the dining rooms were small and dark, the tables crowded together, and most nights the din of nearby diners made private conversation difficult. In the summer, when customers could dine on the tree-covered patio, it was much more tolerable.
He waited for Johnny at the small bar in an alcove near the entrance. As the lone customer at the bar Kerney spent his time sipping an herbal iced tea and watching the bartender mix drink orders placed by the servers. He looked at his wristwatch, noting that Johnny was ten minutes overdue. But Johnny had always been one to stage flashy, late entrances. Thirty-some years ago, Johnny’s show-off antics had been amusing, but Kerney wasn’t about to cool his heels much longer. He’d give it five more minutes before blowing the whole thing off and heading home.
The thought had no more than crossed his mind when Kerney felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. He turned to find Johnny smiling at him. His face was a bit fuller, but his wiry, small-boned frame was lean, and his restless brown eyes still danced with mischief. No more than five foot seven, he wore his light brown hair cut short. Lizard-skin cowboy boots added an inch to his height, and the belt cinched around his waist was secured by a championship rodeo buckle.
“Looks like you’re hitting the hard stuff,” Johnny said as he glanced at Kerney’s iced tea and took a seat. “It’s been a long time, Kerney.”
“That it has,” Kerney replied, not expecting an apology from Johnny for his lateness. “You look well.”
“So do you.” Johnny glanced up and down the length of the almost empty bar. “Where are all the good-looking Santa Fe women? Do you have your cops lock them up at night?”
“No, but we do try to keep them safe. Are you still chasing skirts, Johnny?”
“Not me, I’m a happily married man. But I sure do like to look.” He gestured to the bartender and ordered a whiskey. “Not drinking tonight or on the wagon?”
“Not in the mood,” Kerney replied.
Johnny raised an eyebrow. “That’s no fun. I hear you got hitched some time back.”
“I did,” Kerney replied. “Who told you?”
“Dale Jennings,” Johnny replied. “Says you’ve got yourself a beautiful wife and a fine young son.”
Dale was Kerney’s best friend from his boyhood days on the Jornada. Together with Johnny they rodeoed in high school. In their senior year Johnny had taken the state all-around title, while Kerney and Dale won the team calf-roping buckle. Dale still lived on the family ranch with his wife, Barbara, and their two daughters.
“I do,” Kerney replied. “Sara and Patrick. How about you? Any children?”
Johnny shook his head as the bartender handed him his whiskey. “Not a one.”
“When did you talk to Dale?”
“I’ll fill you in later.” He knocked back the drink and waved the empty glass at the bartender.
“You’re not driving, are you?” Kerney asked, as the bartender approached with the whiskey bottle.
“Hell, yes, I am,” Johnny said as he slid his fresh drink closer. “Stop sounding like a cop. I never figured you for one back in the old days.”
“It’s an honorable profession,” Kerney said. “Tell me what you’ve been doing since you stopped rodeoing.”
Johnny swirled the ice in the glass, deliberately took a small sip, and smiled. “There, is that better? I don’t want to get in trouble with the police chief.”