what Darryl said about not broadcasting this . . . whatever it is.
“I guess it’s just a healing touch,” she said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She got into the car and waved at Charlie as she drove off.
Now she had something else to worry about. How would she continue to answer questions like this?
Chapter 20
The drive back to Taos went by in a blur. Sam basically had to make her mind a blank, except for watching the other traffic, in order not to go completely nuts. She couldn’t let herself dwell on the fact that she was now probably a felon for breaking into Bart’s house and taking the envelope. And she couldn’t begin to fathom what was going on with this whole ‘healing touch’ ability that she now seemed to possess, mainly on the days she handled the strange wooden box. All she wanted to do was bake and sell beautiful pastries to make people’s lives a little happier. She didn’t want to deal with a lot of mysterious stuff in her life.
She approached Taos in the middle of the town’s little rush hour. Since Zoe’s house was on her way home, it would be the perfect time to trade cars, if she was back from her own errands. Sam pulled into the drive that led to the back of the property, noting a couple of guest cars parked in the front. She could see Zoe, alone, through the lighted kitchen window so she tapped once and walked in, holding up her car keys.
“Hey there, you’re back,” Zoe said. They exchanged a few tidbits of catch-up news: she had two couples for the night but they’d walked down to the plaza for dinner at one of the nearby restaurants.
“Oh, I meant to ask you,” Zoe said. “What on earth were you doing with deathcamas in your truck?”
“What?” Death something?
She held up a slack plastic grocery bag. “This was in your truck. I’ll admit that I peeked.”
The plant that Sam had found at the Anderson place. Cantone’s place. “I was going to ask if you knew what it is. It’s a peculiar shade of green.”
“It’s poisonous. Highly toxic to livestock and it grows wild around here.”
“I found it at one of the houses I cleaned this week.” Might as well admit the strange phenomena. “When I finished cleaning I saw residue of green all over the kitchen.”
Zoe raised an eyebrow. “This is not something that should be in anyone’s kitchen. It can kill you. Not that a person would normally eat it. According to the books, it’s very unpalatable, and it would take multiple doses. But cows and sheep sometimes get into it in grazing pasture. The results aren’t pretty—vomiting, frothing, convulsions.”
“Whoa.” A chill coursed through Sam. “I better take this to the sheriff.”
“If you found it inside a house where a man died, yes, I’d do that.”
Sam picked up the bag gingerly. Driving the two blocks to her house she couldn’t shake the creepy feeling as Zoe’s words came back to her.
Her dashboard clock told her it was 6:31 when she pulled into her driveway. There was no way she could meet Beau’s mother in her current state, so she rushed inside, washed up and put on her favorite orange-gold top that Zoe claimed brought out the amber in her eyes. Kelly approved, Sam could tell. Ever since their little come-to- Jesus talk the other night, her daughter’s sullenness had gone away.
They headed north of town, following Beau’s directions, and passed through El Prado watching for the turn. A winding lane took them to the fenced twenty acres he’d described. Sam slowed, looking for the log pillars and carved lintel that comprised the entry. When that appeared on the right, she turned and passed a heavy log gate which he’d left open. On either side of the drive, early twilight revealed wide fields, smelling of new hay, dotted with occasional deciduous trees.
Ahead, two porch fixtures cast golden light on a log home and the windows glowed warmly. Impressive spruce trees flanked the house. She followed the driveway and parked in front of flowerbeds filled with the last of the summer’s blooms. Beyond the house, a hulking wooden barn and dirt yard faded into the shadows.
Beau stepped outside, drying his hands on a towel. Two large dogs—a lab and a border collie—stared alertly from the front porch.
“Hey, you found us,” he greeted. The dogs wagged with enthusiasm and he ordered them to back away.
“I hope we’re not late. Things got a little crazy today.”
“Hi, Kelly. Good to see you again.”
She handed him the bottle of wine they’d brought. “And this is for your mother,” she said, indicating one of the light cardboard pastry boxes Sam used for her business.
When had she come up with that? Sometimes the girl surprised even Sam.
“Beau? Who’s out there?” The crinkly voice came out with clarity and an unexpected amount of strength.
He ushered them inside.
“Mama, it’s Samantha and her daughter. Remember? I told you about them.”
They walked into a homey main room with a staircase to the left. Log walls held western art and Indian blankets, there were leather couches with boldly printed pillows, and a rock fireplace which dominated one wall. Navajo rugs covered the floors. The far wall had two sets of French doors, facing toward the dark fields beyond. A dining table, now set with places for four, would overlook those views during daylight. Lamps with old leather shades gave the entire room a golden glow.
“Sam, this is my mother, Iris Cardwell. Mama, this is Samantha, and Kelly.”
“Please—call me Sam,” she said, shaking hands with the tiny birdlike woman who had wheeled her chair toward them.
“Honey, it’s so good to meet you,” Iris exclaimed. “I’ve been hearing Sam this and Sam that, for days and days.”
“Really?” Sam sneaked a glance toward Beau.
“Mrs. Cardwell, we brought you a little something,” Kelly said, handing the bakery box to the older woman.
Iris took the box with both hands and studied the purple and white label. “Well . . . my, my. Is it okay to open it now?” She lifted the flap and stared inside. “Oh! A flower garden!”
Bless her, Kelly had taken the extra cupcakes that they’d decorated for the birthday party and placed four of them into the box as a gift. It was a thoughtful gesture that obviously made Iris’s day.
“I hope you like sweets,” Kelly said. She took Iris’s hand and gave a light squeeze.
“I love ‘em. Now sit over here, honey, and let’s chat.”
Beau relieved her of the box and asked if Sam would like to lend a hand in the kitchen. They left the other two talking like old friends.
“How about that?” Sam said as the kitchen door closed behind them.
“Mama thinks she’s about twenty, herself. It’s no wonder she gets along so well with kids Kelly’s age.”
Sam helped him put the finishing touches on a salad and he took four good-sized steaks out to a grill on a back deck.
“While we have a few minutes, would you like the nickel tour of the house?”
They walked through the greatroom, where he pointed out some Western antiques—a saddle, an old sewing machine—that he said had come from the days when the family homesteaded land in Oklahoma. Beyond the living area a short hallway led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. Iris obviously occupied one of the rooms, where it looked like the doors had been modified to accommodate her chair.
“Let me turn the steaks and we’ll finish the tour,” he said.
When he returned they walked up the stairs. The master bedroom was spacious, with a king-sized bed that faced double doors leading out to a little balcony. Masculine, heavy furniture fit both Beau and his ranch lifestyle. A modern bathroom contained a huge tiled shower and wide vanity. Male toiletry items were scattered about, not in excess.
“The whole place is just so
