The Case of the Missing Secretary

“He was an idiot there,” Dane had to agree. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough deal. Maybe this job will open new doors for you.”

She smiled. “Maybe it will. Do you know any more about this address besides its location?”

“Just that Tansy’s nephew is something of a hell-raiser. He and Tansy should get along just fine.”

“Another Chris,” she said, shaking her head.

“Well…not exactly,” he replied slowly. “Never mind, just go out there and find out. And, if you get in trouble or have any problems, any at all, just phone here and I’ll demand that you come right home to work on another case. Okay?”

That sounded very much as if he were keeping something from her. She wondered what. Her eyebrows lifted. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“You will be. That’s a promise.” He chuckled. “From what we ferreted out, intrigued is an understatement for what most people think when they meet Emmett.”

She put a hand on her hip. “Emmett?”

“Well, most people don’t call him that if they want to stay out of emergency rooms. Better make it Mr. Deverell until you know him.”

“Should I invest in one of those electrical devices…?”

“Doris will have your ticket.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted and walked out. Sure enough, Doris was waving it at her when she approached. Adams was nearby, grinning.

“Don’t get involved with the natives,” Doris told her. “Those San Antonio men are tornadoes when you get them wound up.”

“I’ll try to remember that. See you when I can. Goodbye, Adams,” she added, waving at him and smiling.

Adams seemed to gain height and masculine beauty as he grinned back.

“Hands off,” Doris whispered. “He’s all mine.”

She said it just loud enough that Adams could hear it, which made his smile even broader. “Good luck,” she whispered back to Doris. And with a wave of her hand, she went to get the necessary things out of her desk before she left for her trip.

San Antonio was big. It boasted a million in population and some of the most interesting things to see and do in the country, including the Alamo and the Paseo Del Rio.

Before she went searching for the address and directions in her purse, she checked into the nearest hotel and took time to get a bite of lunch and rest.

Then she got into her rental car and set out for the address Dane had given her.

It was on the southeastern side of town, and not in a subdivision. In fact, the address was something of a ranch, complete with oil wells pumping in the pastures and white fences all around. Red-coated cattle grazed in thickets of mesquite, past flatland that had patches of prickly pear cactus to hallmark it.

She looked at the address a second time to be sure, but there it was. No one had ever said that the Deverells had a cattle-raising relative out here in Texas.

As she drove across the cattle grate and down the long, winding dirt driveway to the elegant two-story Victorian house in the distance, she was suddenly assailed by three war-painted buckskin-clad midgets with bows and arrows and chicken-feather warbonnets.

“Hold it right there, palefacette,” one of them drawled “You’re our captive.”

She shouldn’t have stopped, she supposed, but they’d looked so cute! Now they looked menacing and ferocious—if you could call grammar-school kids dangerous.

They all looked like boys, but one of them turned out to be a girl. They piled into the backseat and commanded Kit to drive.

“We’re the Deverell gang,” the spokesperson said. “I’m Guy. That’s Polk. She’s Amy.”

“Yes, we’re the reason our daddy can’t get married.” Polk piped up. “We’re savages, like our lus…illl…us…”

“Illustrious,” Amy said for him.

“Thanks! Illustrious ancestors, that is,” Polk continued.

“They were Comanches!” Amy whispered.

“One of them, Amy, only one,” Polk muttered, “and she was our three-times great-grandmother. For heaven’s sake…!”

“You said we were Indians,” Amy persisted. “That’s why we’re wearing these silly costumes!”

“It’s Thanksgiving in two days,” came the reply from the spokesman, Guy. “And we’re in a school play tomorrow, which is Monday, so we’re rehearsing.”

“We’re going to kidnap the principal, Mr. Deere, and hold him for ransom!”

I like these kids, Kit thought. They’re my kind of people. I wonder if they know anything about kidnapping financial experts?

“Stop here,” Guy said. “And don’t try anything funny, pilgrim.”

Amy leaned toward him. “Pilgrimette,” she corrected.

As John Wayne impersonations went, it left a lot to be desired, but it wasn’t too bad, considering. Smothering a laugh, Kit got out of the car and raised her hands as three ferocious Native Americans with bows raised herded her toward the porch and the front door.

“Knock!” Guy said.

She did. There was the muffled, quick and heavy sound of footsteps approaching and a deep voice asking some kind of question. The door opened, and Kit looked up, way up, to a muscular jean-clad body into the palest green eyes in the most unwelcoming darkly tanned face she’d ever seen in her life.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured thoughtfully, glancing at his brood. “Another captive! Bring her in, boys, and we’ll build a nice, warm fire.”

The last thing Kit saw before she hit the floor was the surprise that momentarily softened those fierce features.

Chapter Three

Kit opened her eyes and there was that lean, dark face again. White teeth gleamed in it. Green eyes glittered humorously in it.

“Welcome back,” a deep voice said.

“You can’t burn me at the stake,” Kit said in a rush.

“Beg pardon?”

“Move, Emmett,” an elderly voice said stridently. “Don’t be absurd, Kit,” Tansy Deverell chuckled, “of course he isn’t going to burn you at the stake. I tell you, Emmett, these children are even worse than you were at their ages! You’ve got to do something about them!”

“You want us to go away, don’t you?” Guy asked belligerently. “Well, we won’t! This is our house, and we can stay here if we want. Tell her, Dad.”

“I can’t argue with the boy. Look, he’s armed,” Emmett said reasonably, gesturing toward the bow Guy was holding.

“You’re his father!” Tansy raged.

Emmett frowned and looked at Guy and then at Polk and finally at Amy. “That’s what their mother said.” He sighed. “I guess they do look like me. Lady, are you all right?” he asked, remembering Kit, who was sitting up dizzily.

“Yes, I’m just getting over the shock. It isn’t every day you get captured by a band of Indians and threatened with the stake.”

“Aw, gee, lady, we wouldn’t have burned you,” Polk said. “It’s a lot of work to cut that much wood.”

Kit stared at him blankly.

“Why did you faint?” Tansy asked curtly, her blue eyes somber in a lovely complexion that hadn’t aged, with a frame of beautifully groomed silver hair. “Has my son gotten you in trouble?” she added angrily.

“I’m not pregnant,” Kit muttered. “And if I was, it would make biological history. Your son is much too busy getting himself married to one of the world’s prime gold diggers.”

“Yes, I know,” Tansy said wistfully. “He wouldn’t listen to me, either. I’m sorry he fired you, Kit. He’ll be sorry, too.”

“No, he won’t. He replaced me.” She grinned at Tansy. “It only took him three women to do it. One can do payroll and filing, but she carries an electric weapon and smokes like a furnace. One can spell, but she’s trying to seduce him. And the third one could do all three if she wasn’t scared to death of him. She’s nice.”

“That would be Melody,” Tansy said, and bit her tongue at the quick, almost violent look Emmett gave her.

“Melody?” he asked slowly. “Melody Cartman?”

“Yes, that’s her name,” Kit said, too shaken to notice the undercurrents. “If the smoke doesn’t kill her, she might work out to be his right hand someday.”

“I hate cigarettes,” Tansy said with a pointed look at Emmett.

“Cigarettes are a curse,” he agreed. Then he shrugged off his bad mood, grinned, pulled one out of his pocket and lit it, daring the onlookers to say a word.

“Okay, Dad. You asked for it,” Guy muttered. He whipped around to his back, pulled a water pistol and quickly extinguished the glowing tip.

Emmett stared at it with a forlorn sigh and dropped it. “Damn. That was my last one.”

“And don’t try that again, partner,” Guy said firmly, twirling the water pistol back into his pocket while his siblings applauded loudly. He grinned at Kit. “Hey, lady, want to come hunting rabbits with us?”

“No, thanks, I feel a bit endangered right now.”

“We wouldn’t have a post to tie you to out in the brush,” Polk argued.

“But there’s the brush itself,” Amy mused. “It’s very dry, and I got one of Emmett’s old lighters….”

“Will you stop calling me Emmett?” he muttered at his child. “I’m your father. Show a little respect.”

“Yes, Emmett,” Amy said politely, pulling the lighter out of her pocket.

She flashed it and Emmett grabbed it. “Not anymore, you don’t,” he said. “Scat, you varmints! And don’t bring back any rattlers this time!”

They scampered out, giggling and murmuring among themselves while Kit caught her breath.

“Nobody in the family ever comes here,” Tansy said as she and Emmett helped Kit up. “Can you guess why?” she added with a pointed glare at Emmett.

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