and to taste the fear before she could put it behind her and get on with her life.
“I’ll be calling Martha next week about the first container, so be sure and have her talk to the shipper before then. Also we’ll need to arrange for special storage. The French armoire Mrs. Rogers wants will need to be in a humidity-controlled place until we see how much restoration it requires.” Richard looked over the edge of his glasses at Taylor. “You know where I’ll be staying, don’t you?”
They were at the gallery, tending to a few last-minute details before Richard left on a six-week buying trip to Europe. The trip had come up unexpectedly.
From the other side of the partner’s desk they shared, Taylor answered, struggling to focus on his words and not her thoughts. “You always stay at the same place, Richard. If I need you; I’ll be able to find you, don’t worry.”
He moved to her side with an apologetic smile. “I’m getting uptight, aren’t I?”
“It’s okay. Trips like this take a lot of coordination. I’d be uptight, too.”
“I’m glad you understand.” He reached out and smoothed her hair. “I want you to promise me something, though.”
She looked up. “What?”
“I want you to take some time off while I’m gone. The gallery will be just fine with both of us gone. Martha can handle any crisis better than even you or I, so I want you to relax a little. Go down to the beach house or even better, fly to Florida for a week or so. You need some time off—to think about our future together.”
He was always so generous, so kind. Why did she have to spoil it all by insisting they talk about the ranch? Taylor took a deep breath and started to speak, but Richard had already turned and disappeared into the hall. He came back into the office a few moments later, a sheaf of invoices in his hand. A deep furrow of concern was drawn across his forehead as he studied them, and when he laid them down on the desk, he sighed so heavily she had to put aside her thoughts of Diablo.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to take a quick look at last month’s statements before I left and they’re as bad as I thought. We’ve got to start doing better. Our profits are slipping. We’ve had some good sales lately, but nothing spectacular.” He took a peppermint from his pocket, unwrapped it and slipped the candy into his mouth. Absentmindedly, he twisted the tiny plastic sheath that had covered the candy into a double knot. He did this constantly. She found the wrappers everywhere. “Maybe I can find something in London to tempt Mr. Metzner. That would help.”
“But we’re doing fine.” Taylor was puzzled. She did the bookkeeping. She knew their bottom line down to the penny.
“I want to do better than fine, Taylor,” he answered with a hint of irritation. “The space next door is going to be available in a month or so and I really wanted it—so we can expand.”
Richard’s only fault was his ambition—sometimes it took him too far. Jack had told her about. some of the acquisitions he’d made sight unseen. The expenditures had frightened Jack, a more conservative businessman, but in the end they’d turned out to be extremely profitable, thank God.
She spoke uneasily. “You didn’t sign anything, did you? Like a lease or something?” Beneath the desk, she tangled her fingers nervously.
“Of course not,” he answered patiently. “You know I’d discuss something like that with you first.”
“Well, I don’t think we need to expand right now. We’re doing very well as it is.”
Martha Klein, their assistant, appeared at the door. “Your tickets just arrived, Richard. And the driver’s here to take you to the airport. Are you ready?”
Taylor stared at the woman with dismay. “He’s early—”
“Tell him I’ll be right there, Martha.” Looking back at Taylor, Richard held out his hands, a sudden expression of contrition on his handsome features. “Look—I’m sorry, sweetheart, we are doing wonderfully, but you know me. I just get carried away sometimes. I want the best for you—for us. That’s all. You understand, don’t you?”
Taylor nodded. “I do, but—”
The office door opened again. Martha peeked inside. “Are these all of your bags out here? Nothing else?”
“That’s it.”
Taylor’s shoulders dropped. There was no more time—she couldn’t bring up the ranch issue now. How could they resolve it like this, here, in the next two minutes?
Richard misinterpreted her movement. “C’mon, darling. I won’t be gone that long. Chin up.” He held out his arms and she stepped into them. For a moment, they hugged, then Richard released her, kissing her on the cheek. “Take care of yourself,” he instructed, “and think about how much I love you. That’s the only important thing.”
Taylor stared at the door as it closed softly behind him. A few minutes later, she heard the limo pull out of the driveway. Turning in her office chair, she stared out the window at the fall mums lining the walkway into the gallery. They were orange and gold and red, and their colors made her think of a different place and time. In her mind, she saw a dusty, barren landscape, a tall, dark stranger, and a crimson stain that spread much too fast. Unconsciously, she raised her right hand toward her left shoulder, but before her fingers found their mark, she dropped her hand to the top of the desk. She thought for a very long time, then reached for the phone.
CHAPTER THREE
TAYLOR SNAPPED HER weekender shut and took one last look around her bedroom. She planned on being gone no more than a few days. The real estate agent had told her he could have the papers drawn up during that time, and it wouldn’t take more than an hour to sign them all afterward. A power of attorney was a simple thing to execute. When a buyer for the ranch was found, she wouldn’t have to return.
Selling the ranch without Richard’s approval was not the best way to demonstrate her level of commitment to him but she didn’t really have a choice. Without taking care of this detail first, there wouldn’t be a relationship, much less an engagement. She couldn’t explain all her feelings to Richard, but in time, he’d understand. He was a patient, caring man and he’d see her point.
FIVE HOURS LATER Taylor stood at the rental car counter in Meader, the nearest town of any size to High Mountain. The place was barely bigger than High Mountain but it did have a small regional airport. Most of its customers were oil field workers who serviced the wells that dotted the lonely countryside. Taylor took the first vehicle the clerk mentioned, a black Blazer, and was on the road quickly. Two hundred miles stretched between Meader and High Mountain with few places to stop in between. She wanted to get as many of those miles behind her before dark as she could.
But night came almost without warning. One minute there was light on the highway and the next, it was gone. Taylor felt swallowed by the darkness. She glanced down at her watch and saw with shock three hours had passed, and she hadn’t even been aware where she was or what was happening. The Blazer sped through the ghostly quiet, following the ribbon of highway, its beams cutting into the shadows. She realized, too, the terrain had changed, and she hadn’t noticed, switching from planted fields and oil wells to rockier ground, too rough to support much
