A Man of His Word

Chapter 3

L ike the clientele it catered to, the Lone Eagle Café made no pretensions to elegance. Most of its business came from locals, the rest from pleasure boaters and fishermen who passed through town on their way to or from excursions on the vast man-made lake behind the dam. Occasionally work crews hunkered in and made the motel and café their headquarters during visits to the hydroelectric plant powered by the Chalo River.

Reece had stayed at the motel during his initial site survey last winter and again during the preplanning phase of the dam’s inspection and repair a few months ago. He’d returned three weeks ago to supervise the project itself. By now he pretty well knew the café’s menu by heart, and had settled on the rib-eye steak and pinto beans as his standard fare.

The beef came from Sebastian Chavez’s spread north of town, or so he’d been told by the friendly, broad-hipped Lula Jenkins, who, along with her sister, Martha, co-owned and operated the Lone Eagle Motel and Café. The pinto beans, Lula had advised, were grown on a local farm irrigated by water from the Chalo River Reservoir.

“And if you want to keep on shoveling in these beans,” she reminded Reece as she plunked his over-flowing plate down in front of him, “you’d better see that you get that reservoir filled in time for the fall planting.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Folks hereabouts depend on that water. Depend on the revenues from boaters and fishermen, too.”

“I know.”

Inviting herself to join him, Lula eased her comfortable bulk into the chair opposite Reece’s. Her heavy-lidded brown eyes, evidence of the Native American heritage shared by so many in this region, drilled him from across the green-and-white-checkered plastic tablecloth.

“How long will it take to restock the reservoir with fish after you boys get done messing with the dam?”

Reece’s nostrils twitched at the tantalizing aroma rising from his steak. He hadn’t eaten since his hurried breakfast of diced-ham-and-egg burritos, wolfed down during the drive out to the dam just after dawn this morning. Despite the rumbling in his stomach, however, he knew his dinner would have to wait a while longer. Lula’s question wasn’t an idle one. It echoed the worries of a small town that depended on the Chalo River Reservoir for its livelihood.

Reece had prepared detailed environmental-and economic-impact assessments as part of his prep work for the repair project. He’d also conducted a series of meetings with local business and property owners to walk concerned parties through the process, step by step. Slides and briefings didn’t carry quite the same impact for the people involved as seeing their water supply disappear before their eyes, though.

As the nation’s fifth-largest electric utility and the second-largest wholesale water supplier, the Bureau of Reclamation’s network of dams and reservoirs generated more than forty billion kilowatt-hours of electricity and delivered over ten trillion gallons of water each year. One out of five farmers in the western states depended on this water for irrigation to produce their crops. Additionally, hundreds of thousands of sports fishermen and recreationists plied the man-made lakes behind the dams, contributing their share to the economic fabric of communities like Chalo Canyon.

Even more important, the dams harnessed rivers like the Salt and the Gila and the mighty Colorado, controlling the floods and the devastation they’d wrought over the centuries. Born and bred to the West, Reece had grown up with a healthy respect for a river’s power. In college he’d double-majored in civil and hydroelectric engineering. After college he’d worked dam projects all over the world. His father’s death and the itch to get back to the vast, rugged West where he’d grown to manhood had led to a position with the Bureau of Reclamation’s Structural Analysis Group in Denver. The Chalo River inspection and repair project had brought him home to Arizona.

Patiently he addressed Lula’s concerns about the project’s impact on the serious business of pleasure boating and sports fishing. “My headquarters in Washington began coordinating this project more than a year ago with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and the Arizona Fish and Game Department. The government facility at Willow Bend has doubled its rainbow trout output to resupply the reservoir. The state hatchery will restock channel catfish, black crappie, perch and striped bass. The take won’t be as plentiful for a year or more after the lake refills, but it should still provide enough catch to bring in the sport fishermen.”

“It better,” Lula grumbled. “Things are lookin’ pretty thin now, I can tell you. Martha said she doesn’t have a single room reserved after your crew and Miss Fancy-Pants Scott’s folks leave.” The waitress shook her head. “Imagine her driving right off a cliff!”

Reece took a long pull on his beer while Lula rambled on about the accident. Fancy-Pants wasn’t exactly how he’d categorize the woman he’d pulled out of a piñon tree this morning. Unless, of course, she wore something decidedly provocative under those baggy U.S. Army rejects.

An image of the leggy, tousle-haired brunette in lacy black bikini briefs flashed into his mind for an instant. Resolutely Reece pushed it out. What she wore or didn’t wear under her fatigues was none of his business. His only concern was the safety of her and her crew during their filming around the dam site.

The same couldn’t be said for everyone else in town. The imminent arrival of the filmmaker and her crew had dominated the conversation at the café and the town’s only bar for weeks. Everyone had an opinion about why she’d come back, and most were only too willing to voice it. Clearly ready for another discourse on the prodigal’s return, Lula flapped a hand at Reece.

“Go on, go on, eat that steak while it’s still sizzlin’. I’m just keepin’ you company while I’m wait-in’ for them Hollywood people. Did you know that boy with the Scott woman has rings through every part of him that moves, and a few that don’t?”

Reece sawed into his steak, not particularly interested in a discussion of Zack Tyree’s body parts. It took more than a disinterested grunt, however, to discourage the garrulous Lula.

“Martha says she sneaked a peek at him when she went in to change the bed linens this morning. Couldn’t hardly miss him, really. He was prowling around buck naked, wearin’ nothing but them rings.”

Thankfully, the sound of the door opening sent his hostess swiveling around. A grin beamed across her broad face.

“Hey, Jamie! You’re lookin’ good, boy, as always.”

Tanned, golden-haired Jamie Chavez ushered his wife into the café and guided her across the room to Reece’s table.

“Hey, Lula. You’re lookin’ beautiful, as always.” His smile shifted to include her customer. “How’s the spill going, Henderson?”

Reece got to his feet, taking the hand Chavez offered in a firm grip.

“It’s going,” he replied easily. “Another hundred and fifty feet to river level. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Chavez.”

The rail-thin redhead at Jamie’s side smiled. “Please, call me Arlene. After all the hours you’ve spent out at the ranch, briefing Jamie and my father-in-law on the dam project, I think we can dispense with formalities.”

She was even thinner than Reece remembered from his last visit. Her feathery auburn hair framed sunken cheekbones and hollowed eyes. Skillful makeup softened the stark angles of her face, and her natural elegance drew attention away from her gauntness, but Reece glimpsed the same desperate unhappiness in her shadowed eyes as he’d seen in his mother’s not long ago.

Both women had learned to live with the fact that the man they loved had cheated on them. His mother found out about her husband’s infidelity after his death. Jamie’s transgression occurred during his engagement to Arlene, if the tales of ten years ago held any truth. Now that long-buried embarrassment had come back to haunt her.

Reece had to admit the green-eyed brunette he’d walked up a canyon wall this morning could certainly give this woman something to worry about. Sympathy for the worried wife tugged at him as Lula heaved herself to her feet.

“Did you two come in for dinner? I’ve got some prime rib-eye in the cooler that was wearin’ the Chavez brand not too long ago. I laid in an extra supply for those Hollywood folks, but they said they’d eat light when they got back tonight, whatever ‘light’ means,” she grumbled.

“Probably tofu and soybean salad,” Jamie teased.

“Ha!” Lula hitched her apron on her ample hips. “If they’re expectin’ tofu and such, they’re sure as hell not gonna find it at the Lone Eagle Café.”

“Where are they?” Jamie asked casually.

Too casually, Reece thought. Arlene evidently thought so, too. She threw her husband a sharp glance.

“Well, they loaded up two vans and took off just after one,” Lula told him. “Said they’d be back after the light went, though, so I expect them anytime. If they aren’t gonna eat those steaks, I gotta do something with them. What do you say I throw two on the grill for you and the missus?”

Arlene shook her head. “No, thanks. We just stopped by to—”

“Sure,” her husband interrupted genially. “Why not? Bring out two more of those beers, too.”

“But, Jamie…”

“We don’t have to get back to the ranch right away, darling. Mind if we join you, Henderson?”

Reece shrugged. “Of course not. Please, be my guest.”

A tight-lipped Arlene slid into the chair he held out for her. She didn’t want a steak. That much was obvious. From the nervous glances she darted at the front door every time it opened, it was also obvious she didn’t want to be sitting at the Lone Eagle Café when the Hollywood folks, as Lula termed them, returned.

Reece reminded himself that neither Jamie Chavez, his wife, nor the woman who’d almost come between them were any of his business, but that didn’t kill the little stab of pity he felt for Arlene when the door swung open twenty minutes later and Sydney trooped in with her crew.

They were certainly a colorful bunch, from the kid with the green hair and the be-ringed nostrils to the statuesque, ebony-skinned six-footer who toted camera bags over each shoulder and sported a turquoise T-shirt with Through a Lens Lightly emblazoned in glittering gold across her magnificent chest. The guy with the earphones draped around his neck like stethoscopes was obviously the soundman. The mousy little female beside him had to be the gofer no crew could operate without, Reece’s included.

But it was the writer-director who drew every eye in the café. Reece’s included.

She was laughing at something one of her crew had said. The sound flowed across the room like rich, hot fudge. Her hair looked like chocolate fudge, too, shining and thick and brushed free of the dust and scraggly tangles that had snarled it this morning.

She still wore her boots and baggy fatigue pants. This time, however, she’d paired them with a short-sleeved black top in some clingy material that showed every line and curve of her upper body. The erotic image Reece had conjured up of her earlier popped instantly into his mind. To his disgust, he couldn’t quash the startlingly erotic picture as easily as he had before.

He wasn’t the only one whose thoughts had focused on Sydney. Arlene Chavez sat with both hands folded into fists in her lap, her lips white at the corners as she took in the director’s laughing vitality. Her husband, too, had his eyes locked on the striking brunette.

“Well, well, little Syd’s all grown-up.”

Jamie’s murmur was almost lost in the boisterous group’s arrival. Reece caught it, though. So did Arlene. Her gaze wrenched away from the newcomers, and her face filled with such anguish that Reece’s heart contracted.

Dammit! Couldn’t Chavez see his wife’s pain and insecurity?

Evidently not. The man’s eyes lit with a gleam that was part predatory and wholly admiring. Tossing his paper napkin onto the table, Jamie rose and strolled forward to intercept the group.

“Sydney?”

“Yes?”

She turned with a look of inquiry that jolted into surprise. Surprise flowed almost instantly into a polite greeting.

“Hello, Jamie.”

He took the hand she offered in both of his. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has.” She freed her hand, eyeing him with the slanting assessment of a person who made her living in the visual arts. “You haven’t changed much.”

It could have been meant as a compliment or a condemnation. Jamie chose to grin and turn her words back on her.

“You have.”

“I’m glad you recognize that fact.”

“I heard you almost drove off a cliff last night.”

She shook her head, half amused, half exasperated. “Things always did get around fast in this town.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” His grin faded. “I also heard your father died. I’m sorry, Syd. He was a good man.”

From where Reece sat, it was impossible to miss the change that came over her. She seemed to soften around the edges. Her green eyes grew luminous, her full mouth curved with a genuine warmth.

“Yes, he was.”

They shared a small silence, two people bound by the memory of someone they’d both known.

Arlene broke the moment. Rising abruptly with a jerky movement that rattled the glasses and cutlery on the table, she crossed the room to slip her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm.

“Is this the famous Sydney Scott I’ve heard so much about? Why don’t you introduce us, darling?”

“This is the one,” Jamie replied with unruffled charm. “Arlene, meet Sydney. Syd, this is my wife, Arlene.”

Reece wondered how the moviemaker would handle the awkward situation. So did everyone else in the café. Lula had both elbows on the service window behind the counter, her brown eyes wide. A few of the other local patrons whispered and nudged and nodded in the direction of the threesome. Even the noisy crew Sydney had come in with picked up on the buzz and turned curious eyes on their boss.

To her credit she gave the other woman an easy smile. “I don’t know about the famous part, but I am Sydney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Arlene couldn’t let it go there. With her arm still tucked in her husband’s, she knifed right to the heart of the matter. “I understand you and my husband were once, shall we say, close friends.”

A hush fell over the café. Sydney’s ripple of laughter filled the void. “I made a fool of myself over him, you mean. I suppose most girls go through that gawky, hopelessly romantic stage. Thankfully we grow out of it sooner or later.”

“Do we?”

“Well, I did, anyway.” Her gaze flickered to the fingers Arlene had dug into Jamie’s arm. She gentled her voice, as if understanding the woman’s need for reassurance. “A long time ago.”

Reece stiffened. That was exactly the wrong thing to say around a man like Jamie Chavez. Reece had only met the younger Chavez a few times, but he’d worked with enough men to recognize the type. Handsome, wealthy, restless, chafing a little at having to work with and for his father, despite the fact that he would inherit the vast Chavez ranching and timber empire someday.

That much had been apparent to Reece a few months ago, the night Sebastian Chavez had invited him out to the ranch for drinks and a discussion of the pending dam-repair project. Chavez doted on his only son. He’d displayed a wall of glass cases filled with Jamie’s sports trophies and bragged about his keen competitive spirit in both school and business. The bighorn sheep and mountain cat trophies mounted on the den walls, all bagged by Jamie, also indicated someone who loved the thrill of the hunt.

And now a woman who admitted to having made a fool of herself over him laughingly claimed she’d grown out of the infatuation years ago. If Reece had been a betting man, he’d put money on the odds that Jamie would shake loose from his wife’s hold…which he did. And that he’d make a move on Sydney…which he now tried to do.

“Not much changes around Chalo Canyon, Syd, even in ten years, but I’d be glad to take you up in my chopper and let you reacquaint yourself with the area. Maybe you can get some shots of the ruins from the air for your documentary.”

“I don’t think your father would appreciate that, Jamie. He specifically denied me and my crew access to the canyon rim through his land.”

Disgusted, Reece lifted his beer. Nothing like telling the man that his daddy was the one calling the shots around here. Didn’t she realize that was like waving a red flag in front of a young bull?

His arm froze with the bottle halfway to his mouth. Maybe she did. Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.

Dammit, he’d wanted to believe her this morning when she’d said she’d come back to Chalo Canyon for one reason only. Now…

“I chopper my own aircraft,” Jamie said with a tight smile. “I take up who I want, when I want, where I want.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need aerial shots. Or access through Chavez land. I’ve made other arrangements.”

The wrenching heartbreak on Arlene’s face as she listened to the byplay between her husband and the moviemaker brought Reece out of his chair. Her expression reminded him so much of his mother’s anguish that dark February night. He was still telling himself he was a fool to get involved when he joined the small group.

“Speaking of arrangements, we agreed to get together tonight, remember?”

He kept the words casual, but the lazy glint in his eyes when he looked down at Sydney implied they’d agreed to get together to talk about more than arrangements. To reinforce the impression, Reece aimed a smile her way.

After the first, startled glance, Sydney picked up on his cue. “So we did. Shall we make it your room or mine?” she purred, sliding an arm around his waist.

Whoa! When the woman threw herself into a role, she pulled out all the stops. Reece had to clear his throat before he could push out an answer.

“Mine. I’ll clean up while you grab something to eat with your crew.”

“I’m not hungry. I just came in with the gang for the company. I’ll go with you now. Arlene, maybe we’ll get a chance to chat some other time. Jamie…”

Watched avidly by everyone in the café, she searched for a dignified exit line. Once again, Reece stepped into the breech.

“See you around, Chavez.”

With a nod to her crew, Sydney preceded Reece out of the café. Neither one of them spoke as they walked through the heat that was rapidly fading to a sweat-cooling seventy or so degrees as dusk turned the sky purple.

Their footsteps crunched on the gravel walkway. Bugs buzzed the glowing yellow bulbs that hung over the row of motel doors. Sydney halted in front of Number Six. Drawing in a long breath, she turned to face him.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I really didn’t need rescuing this time.”

“What makes you think I stepped in to rescue you?”

“Then who…? Oh. Arlene?”

“Right. Arlene. She doesn’t appear to share your confidence that what happened between you and Jamie is, how did you put it? Water over the dam?”

“I can’t help what she believes.” She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her baggy pants, her movements stiff and defensive in the lamplight. “I came here to make a movie, and only to make a movie.”

“A lot of people seem to believe otherwise.”

“Tough. I can’t avoid the past, but I’m certainly not going to let it get in my way.”

“The past being Jamie Chavez, or his wife?”

Her chin angled. “Look, this isn’t really any of your business. Let’s just—”

She broke off, her glance darting past him. Behind him, Reece heard the sound of the café door banging shut.

“Oh, hell!”

It didn’t take an Einstein to guess who had just walked out. After a short, pregnant pause, Sydney shot him a challenge.