Part 12 (2/2)
”Before or after the rockfall?”
”He saved me, then kept me.”
Jackson slammed his chair back so hard it hit the far wall.
Karen flinched.
Jackson came to his feet, his heavy hands clenched into fists. His voice low with contempt, he asked, ”Do you expect me to believe that?”
”Yes. Why not? What do you think happened?”
”Youave been s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with this guy because he had a black leather coat and a motorcycle.”
”How did you know that?” How did he know anything about Warlord?
”You ran away with him and when he was tired of you, you come to me with this c.o.c.k-and -bull storya””
Where was he getting his information, with enough truth in it to make her look bad? ”Dad. I canat believe you havenat sent someone to take pictures of the hotel site.”
”I did,” he admitted.
”Did you happen to notice the millions of tons of rock obliterating the base of the mountain? I didnat fake that rockfall.” She was incredulous. ”Not even you could be that paranoid.”
Wrong thing to say. Definitely the wrong thing.
Jackson flushed an ugly red. His harsh voice rose. ”Do you know how much that project cost me?”
”It almost cost you your daughter!”
”My daughter,” he sneered. ”Is that what you think?”
Then he looked surprised, as if someone else had spoken.
The silence in the room was profound, and she found herself listening to the rasp of her own breathing. ”What do you mean?”
”Nothing,” he muttered.
”You mean, Iam not . . . your daughter?”
His gaze dropped, and he actually looked discomfited. ”It doesnat matter.”
”Of course.” Her hands hung loosely at her sides, but her brain was racing. ”That explains everything. The indifference, the impatience, the constant withholding of affection and approval . . . Iam not yours.”
”What difference does it make? Iave had the trouble of raising you. Iave paid for your education. ” His brief moment of remorse faded; he was working himself into a temper.
”Get mad.” For the first time, she understood him. ”Thatas the way you deal with everything that makes you look bad or feel uncomfortable.”
”What man wouldnat get mad? A wife whoas out s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g while I work, and all I get out of it is a worthless child. If your mother had to leave me with a kid, why the h.e.l.l did it have to be a girl?”
Karen didnat care about his condemnation. She had to find out. . . . ”Who was my father?”
”My best friend. Who the h.e.l.l else?”
She could almost taste Jacksonas bitterness. ”Who was your best friend?”
”Dan Nighthorse. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Blackfoot Indian.”
”I remember him.” Barely. He was a shadowy figure hovering in the background of her mind; those early memories were mostly taken up with the recollection of her motheras hands, her motheras smile, her motheras eyes . . . her motheras death.
”He was always skulking around here, in between taking tourists into the mountains to live off the land and see the beautiful scenery. She loved to climb, was an expert, wanted us to go up into the hills to commune with nature, like a couple of hippies. Iave got no patience for that c.r.a.p.”
”I know.” Jackson might build hotels that catered to trekkers, but unless he could hunt, unless an animal died by his hand, he wasnat interested in camping.
”She nagged me, and finally I told her to stop bothering me and go with him.” He looked up at the collection of antlers that lined his walls. ”I canat believe she fell for his pile of bull.”
A horrifying thought struck her. ”Did you kill them?”
”Your parents? No, I didnat kill them, no matter how much they deserved it. I was working while they were out romping around in the wilderness, and a freak snowstorm set in. Your mother stepped off the G.o.dd.a.m.ned cliffa””
”I know.” Karenas nightmares had always been of falling.
”Nighthorse broke his neck trying to rescue her, and she d.a.m.ned near froze before the Civil Air Patrol spotted her and brought her in. My father called me and told me to come home and say good-bye to my wife, and he informed me then what everybody else knewa” that theyad been s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around behind my back for years.”
”I remember Grandpa.” A tall, big-bellied, nasty man who abused his son, ignored her, and sent the housekeeper fleeing.
”When I got to the hospital, they told me the internal bleeding couldnat be stopped. Like I cared.” He stopped, cleared his throat. He was trembling with some great emotion.
Karen realized he suffered. From humiliation, she supposed.
”Abigail wanted my promise to raise you as if you were my own.”
”You gave it to her?” Karen couldnat imagine her father yielding to pressure, not even from a dying woman.
”I gave it to her.” He sneered again, but this time he was facing the mirror. ”My father said I was a fool, and I was. But I loved her. Bet you didnat know that.”
”You . . . loved her?”
”G.o.d only knows why. She wasnat good for anything. Couldnat keep the house tended. Couldnat keep the ranch going. She whined because I didnat spend enough time with her. She b.i.t.c.hed because I took my pleasures while I traveled. Then she cheated on me with my best friend.”
”Imagine that.” Everything inside Karen, all the parts that had been unsure, in wonder, seemed to grow strong. Her lungs breathed, her heart beat, her balance was so sure not even an earthquake could throw her off the earth. And all the emotional parts of her, the ones that held on to hope, fell away at the light that shone on her life. ”What made you tell me this now? Why, when Iave done nothing but work for you, try to please you, perform when no other cana”why decide I betrayed you?”
”Phil told me.”
”Phil?” She tried to comprehend. ”Phil Chronies?”
<script>