Jarrod pulled on the reins and the horse, stopping several feet from the house. It still stood as the tidy centerpiece to J.T.’s ranch. Alice had always made it cozy and a warm welcoming place with flowers lining the neat walkway to the front steps. Jarrod urged the horse further. As he approached the house, he had a different feeling about it now. Jarrod’s intuition was telling him, as it often did, that there was something that was not right. He stopped and climbed out of the carriage while still looking at the house. The flowers still lined the walk and the roses still climbed the trellis, yet it lacked the familiarity he once knew. It was a stranger to him now. Was it because J.T. and Alice were gone? Or did it all seem too perfect. As he approached and mounted the steps, he heard a voice behind him.

"Can I help you?" Jarrod whirled around to face a short, heavyset, unshaven, older man, holding a spade.

"I’m Jarrod Barkley, J.T. Hallowell’s attorney."

"Well, if you’re looking for J.T. you better get a shovel and start digging. He died two days ago." Suspicious, watery, cranberry eyes peered out from under a crumpled, stained hat.

"I know that’s why I’m here." The man kept eyeing Jarrod. "Is Mrs. Hallowell home?"

"She sure is." The man mounted the steps and moved closer to Jarrod. Jarrod trying not to inhale was attempting to ignore the man’s unpleasant aroma. "My name is Corkey. Folks call me that cause I chew the corks off bottles if you know what I mean?" Corky winked at Jarrod and screwed his mouth up into a gap tooth grin. Jarrod managed a smile.

"What do you do here Corky?"

"Gardener." Corky removed his hat, revealing tangled wisps of hair and slapped the hat on his thigh. "Whew, is it ever hot." He took a corner of his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face. Jarrod could not help thinking his brother Nick might be like that in later years, but quickly dismissed it as an outrageous thought.

"Alice Hallowell always did the gardening."

"Not this one she’s too good to put her hands in the dirt." Then he spat on the ground. Looking back at Jarrod, he continued, "She someone’s prissy daughter from Louisiana, always carrying on about that damn Civil War." Corky opened the door and Jarrod followed him in. "I’ll go fetch the Duchess."

Jarrod removed his hat and laid it down with his briefcase on the hall table. He stepped into the living room with the awestruck look of a little boy at Christmas. He could not believe the changes to the room. J.T. no longer existed; only oriental rugs, plush teal velvet furniture and drapes, and delicate hand blown glass lamps with crystal adornments that Jarrod tapped with his finger, listening to the tink, tink. He tried to hear J.T.’s booming voice way off in the recesses of his memory, but nothing, only silence.

"I’m Angelique Martineau Hallowell. You must be Mr. Barkley." Jarrod spun around, surprised at what he saw. He knew nothing about J.T.‘s second wife, assuming she would be like Alice. "I have been expecting you." She said moving toward him to shake his hand. Jarrod examined the petite woman with the tapered waist. She had a firm handshake for a woman. Moving past Jarrod, he turned to watch her. He quietly stood hands behind his back, admiring her. The train of her dress swished along the floor, puffy clouds of red moiré silk, cascading into a layered cone of perfectly pleated satin trim, off white lace and black velvet ribbons. Like most widows, she did not wear the traditional black or other colors of mauve or gray.

"Drink?"

"Yes, please." Jarrod said, keeping his distance.

"Sherry?" she asked, holding up a heavy crystal decanter.

"Yes, thank you." Jarrod approached as she turned, handing him a glass. Her large amber eyes were penetrating yet she was aloof. Jarrod sipped his sherry.

"Corky tells me you’re from Louisiana."

"Oh, yes and like many my father lost everything in the war." Jarrod could not help studying her silky dark brown hair, swept up into tight curls, falling into loose ropy streamers down the nape of her neck. Walking to the couch, she sat down, motioning Jarrod to join her. He settled into a chair opposite her. Leaning back into the crook of the tufted velvet couch, her eyes narrowed, covering him.

"J.T. never mentioned how attractive you are."

"J.T. wouldn’t and thank you." Angelique’s forwardness defied custom. Even though Jarrod was intrigued with her and flattered by her attention, he was keeping a steady eye on her while sipping his sherry. "Where is Eleanor?"

"Eleanor? Oh, Eleanor....the poor child."

"Why do you say that?" Angelique looked away, picking some lint off her sleeve.

"She hasn’t been herself since her father died."

"I can understand that." Angelique sighed.

"When are we going to read the will." Angelique asked, playing with her diamond ring, twisting it and gazing at it. Jarrod sensed her urgency but did not like the illustration of Angelique forming in his mind.

"When would it be convenient for you?"

"Tonight, after dinner." She said gleefully like a child whose father sent her off to the candy store after whining. Jarrod nodded. "I’ll see if Maggie has your room ready." Angelique said, slithering off the couch as Jarrod rose to his feet. Before leaving the room, Angelique stopped in front of a mirror, making some minor adjustments to her appearance. She then left the room without another word.

Jarrod thinking about Angelique suddenly heard a noise.

"Psst." Jarrod turned in the direction of the sound. "Mr. Barkley." Poking her head around the door to the garden was Eleanor. Looking like a freckled nosed pixie, she had her father’s carrot colored curly hair.

"Eleanor." Jarrod set his glass down and walked toward where she was standing. Grabbing his lapels, Eleanor was pulling him over to a little white wrought iron bench. Releasing his lapels, they both sat down.

"I have to talk with you." Furrowing his brow and aware of Eleanor’s fear, he asked, "What’s wrong?" Eleanor twisted a handkerchief between her fingers.

"I miss daddy." Jarrod took her hand.

"I know exactly how it feels to lose a father."

"You do," she said, perking up suddenly but only for a moment. "No one else around here seems to care."

"It wasn’t too long ago my father died." Jarrod knowing that time eventually heals and the tears subside could never ignore the leftover loneliness.

"Nothing is the same without him."

"That’s for sure," Jarrod said grinning. Eleanor, staring down into her black silk lap as if some miracle answer was there. Tilting his head to the left, Eleanor caught his gazing at her. Looking at him at that very moment warmed her, sensing an ally in Jarrod.

"How about a walk?" He asked, gently squeezing her hand. "It’s been a few years since I’ve been here. I guess since your mother died. Everything has changed," Jarrod said wistfully, squinting into the sunlight as a light wind ruffled his hair.

"And not for the best," said Eleanor, fingering her mother’s cameo with long, slender white fingers.

"Why do you say that?"

"It’s Angelique. She brings something evil into this house...something unwelcome. She’s a leech."

"Isn’t that being harsh?"

"You’ve met her. Does she emit warm feelings?"

"Well, I will say this, she emits something but it isn’t necessarily warm."

"See what I mean." Jarrod did not doubt Angelique’s insincerity.

"Well, I____" Eleanor and Jarrod stood up when hearing a noise from the nearby bushes.

"Hello" A young man appeared, walking toward them he extended his hand to Jarrod. "I’m Cliff Ross."

"Jarrod Barkley," Jarrod said shaking Cliff’s hand.

"Oh, I have certainly heard about you, sir," Cliff remarked, while removing his hat and smoothing out his hair.

"All good I hope."

"Nothing but," Cliff replied, straightening his tie then turning to Eleanor. "Where is Angelique?"

"Inside," Eleanor replied, gazing down at the shapeless pieces of isolated and chipped slate, forming a haphazard pattern.

Jarrod kept staring at the young man with the dark blue silk cravat and pearl stud. Jarrod’s eyes then drifted to the burgundy silk vest, shot with a gold thread pattern and tiny brass buttons.

"Nice meeting you Mr. Barkley." Jarrod nodded as Cliff disappeared into the house.

"Who is that?"

"Angelique’s friend and lawyer. I don’t care for him either." Jarrod was thinking more of Cliff as a dandy rather than a lawyer.

"Why does she need a lawyer?"

"Who knows what rattles around that conniving mind of hers," Eleanor said, taking Jarrod’s hand and holding it tight. "How about that walk you promised me." Giving her his arm instead, Eleanor moved closer to him.

Returning from their walk, Jarrod managed to get Eleanor smiling and laughing, lifting gloominess. Both stopped in the doorway, watching Angelique hurling letters and photos into the fire. Eleanor’s eyes growing wide as she asked, "What are you doing?"

"None of your business." Letting go of Jarrod’s arm, Eleanor ran over to Angelique; seizing the contents Angelique had in her hands.

"These are photos of my mother," Eleanor said browsing through the pile in her hands. "And daddy." Angelique tried grabbing the photos and letters from Eleanor and both became snarled in a tug of war.

"Stop it," Jarrod snapped, stepping in and taking the photos and letters from Angelique.

"Give those to me," Angelique demanded as she tried seizing them again.

"Angelique, that’ll be enough," Jarrod said harshly, holding them out of her reach. Taking them from Jarrod, and backing away, Eleanor was holding them close to her. "Why Angelique?" Jarrod asked.

"I’m tired of hearing about J.T. and his family." Jarrod thought this statement was shocking but not surprising considering the origin.

"He was your husband. Didn’t it ever occur to you that Eleanor would want those photos and letters?"

"I don’t want them around." Angelique said, turning and retrieving another scrapbook lying on the couch. Jarrod quickly took it from her. Nailing Jarrod with her eyes, she continued, "Do what you wish with them Eleanor but I never want to lay eyes on them. Do you hear?" Reluctantly submissive, Angelique wheeled around and left in a huff.

Sitting down, Eleanor’s mouth was taut while clutching her family mementos. While handing the other scrapbook to Eleanor, Jarrod noticed a few letters had fallen on the floor. Retrieving the letters he then handed the scrapbook to Eleanor.

"Thank you, Jarrod."

" I must admit she is the most thoughtless woman I have ever met and I have met a few." He began looking over the letters.

"Selfish too. All she talks about is her papa’s plantation in Louisiana and restoring it to its pre-Civil War days. All her wonderful childhood memories before the war spoiled everything. She disliked even hearing the Hallowell name mentioned. It’s been like this ever since he died."

"I’m sure," Jarrod replied, feeling sorry for Eleanor because of Angelique’s brutal insensitive nature robbing Eleanor of the chance to grieve. Eleanor began to leaf through the scrapbook as Jarrod glanced at the letters. Noticing they were recent letters from Hazel Hallowell Montgomery in San Francisco, he asked, "Who is Hazel Montgomery?"

"Aunt Hazel."

"Your father had a sister?"

"Yes, no one told you about Hazel?"

"No, they did not. Judging from these letters they seemed very close."

"They are...or were, I should say."

"Did anyone inform Hazel of his death?"

"I don’t know," Eleanor replied thoughtfully. "Knowing Angelique, probably not."

"So, Angelique knew about her?"

"She sure did and hated Aunt Hazel. Aunt Hazel could see Angelique was as transparent as glass.

"I have to tell you, I drew up his will and he never mentioned her."

"Oh, Aunt Hazel has plenty of money. First husband died and left her very well off and her second husband, Jarvis Montogomery is very wealthy too. So, she never wanted or needed anything from father but his friendship and his love. You know what I mean?"

"I know exactly what you mean," Jarrod answered smiling and tucking the letters into his inside breast pocket.

Later, that evening, Jarrod assembled everyone in the library for the reading of the will. Angelique, Eleanor, Corky and Maggie were all present. Cliff Ross was there at Angelique’s request. Jarrod laid out the will on a large mahogany desk knowing what was in the will since he drew it up, he would relate it in layman’s terms, dispensing with the legal terminology.

"To my faithful and devoted servant, Maggie Calahan, I bequeath the some of five thousand dollars." Maggie, who seldom smiled, was smiling as Angelique glanced over at her. Jarrod continued reading.

"To Arthur Reilly, known as Corky, I also bequeath the sum of five thousand dollars." Corky was jumping up and down as Angelique glared at him. Obstinate, he hesitated sitting just to annoy her, but sat down anyway still wanting to thumb his nose at her.

"To my wife Angelique Martineau Hallowell," Jarrod paused and glanced up at Angelique, who was now sitting forward in her chair. "I bequeath a monthly stipend of one thousand dollars until she such time as should remarry. Upon her death, it will revert to my daughter, Eleanor Alice Hallowell. Angelique’s eyes were sizzling and her mouth tightening as Jarrod was reading. Their eyes met, Jarrod looking up at her briefly while turning the page. "The remainder of my estate, including all livestock, land, lease holdings, stocks, bonds and other property, I bequeath to my daughter, Eleanor Alice Hallowell upon her twenty fifth birthday. Until such time it will remain in trust with Jarrod Barkley as my trustee." Angelique was rising to her feet and Jarrod expecting an outburst was ready.

"This is outrageous."

"You certainly may contest the will, Angelique, but I’d advise you against it. It would be unwise considering he did provide for you in his will and he was of sound mind and body when I drew it up for him." Jarrod folded his hands in front of him on the desk. "Therefore, a probate court would simply dismiss it." Angelique, peering over at Cliff for support and a different viewpoint for her argument, saw Cliff was looking defeated.

"Jarrod is right, I don’t think there is much you can do," Cliff responded.

"And that’s the end of it?" She said sneering.

"Angelique, J.T, certainly provided for your needs and you’re certainly welcome to stay on here at the ranch. Since you’re young, I’m sure he thought you might go back to Louisiana and remarry." Jarrod said.

"Oh, how kind he was. What am I? A charity case?" Cliff stood up putting his hands on Angelique’s shoulders.

"Angelique, calm down, don’t be so dramatic."

"You’re very quiet," Angelique said, pulling away from Cliff and glancing over at Eleanor." Eleanor ignored her, peering up at Jarrod.

"Jarrod, does she have stay on at the ranch?" Jarrod hesitated, knowing his answer would send up more fireworks.

"Well no, but I suggest..." Eleanor jumping up out of her chair and facing Angelique, said, "You don’t have to stay here. Jarrod said so. So, why don’t you go somewhere else and seduce another rich widower and try to get his money. You’re so good at scheming your way into rich families it’s become an occupation." Angelique slapped her across the face as Cliff jumped in pulling Angelique away from Eleanor. Angelique saw Eleanor’s twinkling green eyes hardening as Eleanor feeling the sting of the humiliating blow. Eleanor’s eyes were narrowing. Pinching her mouth, she gave Angelique a sidelong glance.

"Get out, get out of here," Eleanor screamed, attempting to strike Angelique. Jumping out of his chair, Jarrod came up from behind Eleanor, grabbing her arms and holding her back.

"Eleanor, that won’t do any good," Jarrod snapped.

"Both of you calm down," Cliff added.

"I won’t calm down, I want her out," Eleanor spat as Cliff and Jarrod, looking at one another as two baffled males uncertain of what to do with the two raging females in their grasps.

"Let go," Angelique said, pulling away from Cliff. "I’m alright." Stiff and unemotional, Angelique put a hair back in place. Then caressing her tight fitting bodice, she smoothed out the wrinkles as if she had been through The Battle Antietam. Jarrod released his grip on Eleanor, hoping it was safe.

"I’ve had it," said Angelique, sweeping passed Eleanor and Jarrod, going upstairs.

"Are you all right?" Jarrod asked Eleanor.

"I will be once she leaves this house," remarked Eleanor, stalking out of the room.

"Perhaps I better be on my way as well," Cliff added, retrieving his hat.

"Wait, Cliff, I need to ask you something."

"Yes, Jarrod."

"How long has this been going on between the two of them?"

"You must know your fairy tales counselor, remember Cinderella?"

"That’s an interesting analogy."

"Goodnight," said Cliff, going on out the door.

Later, Jarrod had fallen asleep in his chair while reading. Jolted awake by screaming his book went tumbling to the floor; waking him from a groggy haze. Hearing a loud thump, he ran out into the hall. Scanning the hallway he saw nothing until leaning over the stair railing.

"Oh, my God." His eyes widening as he noticed Eleanor down at the bottom of the staircase, lying in a bloody heap. Racing down the stairs, stopping and kneeling beside her, he felt for a pulse. She was barely alive. She was breathing heavily and gurgling.

"Eleanor, Eleanor can you hear me?" There was no response. "Angelique...Angelique." Jarrod, then dashing back up the stairs stopped when Angelique appeared, looking drowsy.

"What is it?" She asked casually, leaning against the wall, trying to stifle a yawn.

"It’s Eleanor, she’s been hurt, I’m going into town and get the doctor. Will you stay with her?"

"Why of course I will." Jarrod was unnerved by Angelique’s steady calm. He’d seen soldiers with less reserve in the war.

Emerging three hours later, the doctor was wadding up his stethoscope, his head hanging low. Jarrod did not have to ask, knowing what the answer would be.

"I’m sorry, I did everything I could, it was just too late." Angelique was standing nearby, silent and expressionless. Jarrod was not surprised at her reaction to the entire night’s events.

"Thank you doctor," Jarrod said, walking the doctor downstairs. Angelique, peering over the banister, suspicious of their conversation was unable to hear anything. Pulling her robe tighter around her, she was shrinking back into the shadows when Jarrod glanced up to at her.

The next morning, Jarrod was on his way into town to make arrangements for Eleanor’s funeral when Angelique stopped him in the foyer.

"Jarrod, may I ask you a legal question pertaining to J.T’s will?" Angelique asked while folding her arms.

"What is it?"

"You didn’t mention what happens to the estate upon Eleanor’s death."

"It remains with me as trustee and your allowance is increased per month."

"What if something should happen to you?" Her voice was evil yet dripping with sugar. Feeling uneasy, Jarrod disliked the question, yet it was not difficult for him decipher her motive.

"Did J.T have any other relatives that you are aware of?"

"No," she replied trapping herself in her mesh of lies. "So that would leave the door open for me."

"In a manner of speaking, yes. J.T. assumed Eleanor would marry and have children, eventually leaving everything to them."

"Why would he leave it in trust with you if Eleanor died?"

"You are provided for," Jarrod answered, bypassing the question.

"Until I remarry."

"It simply means you have no control over the assets without my consent."

"But as his wife, I’m entitled and therefore I can contest the will." Approaching Jarrod with one of her tantalizing smiles, she stroked his chest while looking into his vivid blue eyes. "I know you don’t want a messy court battle. There are better things to do with our time."

"I think not. I’m due in town," Jarrod said, grabbing her hands away from him and snatching his hat off the hat rack. Angelique angry because her seduction failed, continued watching Jarrod as he was walking toward the stable. He was a fascinating yet loathsome obstacle. This was unsettling for Angelique, someone who by using her charm had always gotten what she desired. Yet, her desires were guaranteed poison in the lives of others. The war had taught her how she must live in what she viewed as a harsh world. A world not suitable enough to live up to her expectations and that people like Corky and Maggie should not exist, symbolizing all that she despised. Yet, Jarrod was different.

Corky walked in as Jarrod was saddling his horse.

"Hey, there counselor."

"Corky."

"Too bad about Miss Eleanor."

"Yes, it certainly is."

"So young and pretty too."

"Corky...did you see or hear anything last night?" Jarrod asked while trying to get the horse to take the bit in his mouth.

"Like what?"

"Oh, maybe Eleanor and Angelique arguing or..."

"Nothing." Stopping what he was doing, Jarrod looked at Corky.

"Are you sure." Jarrod asked, tightening the cinch.

"Positive." Jarrod was not convinced by his answers, sensing Corky’s nervousness, which was unlike Corky. "I better be getting back to work." Jarrod pulled the reins over the horse’s head, leading him out of the stable. He then noticed Corky, standing motionless in front of the flowerbed. He had one more question for him.

"Corky."

" Miss Eleanor planted these flowers a few days ago. Just like her mama, she was." Corky had a faraway look in his eyes. Seeing a different side of him, Jarrod did not want to intrude on this moment. The questions could wait. "It’s as if she’s living on."

"I suppose." Jarrod mounting his horse, thinking about what Corky had just said, was more determined than ever to find out why Eleanor died. Suspicion was nagging him as always, urging him to investigate and seek out the truth.

While in town, Jarrod stopped in to see Dr. Taylor, who treated Eleanor before she died the previous night.

"Mr. Barkley, come in," said Dr. Taylor, leading Jarrod into his office. "Please, sit down," he offered, motioning to a nearby chair. Jarrod sat, planting his hat on his knee. "Now, what can I do for you?" Dr. Taylor asked, relaxing in his chair, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in front of him.

"Did Eleanor die as a result of the fall?"

"Well" he paused, removing his spectacles. "Might be and might not be," he answered, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaning his spectacles.

"What do you mean?"

"Severe blow to the back of the head." Dr. Taylor replied, blowing on his spectacles, one side, then the other and rubbing them in a circular motion between his thumb and forefinger with the handkerchief. "Most likely caused by a blunt instrument. Can’t say what that would be though." He continued cleaning his spectacles.

"Murder?" Dr. Taylor stopped his ritual cleaning, glancing up at Jarrod.

"Could be, but you didn’t hear it from me." Finishing cleaning his spectacles, Dr. Taylor returned the handkerchief to his pocket.

"What did J.T. die of?"

"Natural causes."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?" Jarrod was fishing. Dr. Taylor knowing what Jarrod was fishing for overlooked the bait.

"Not that I know of." Dr. Taylor replied, gripping the arms of his chair.

"Well, thank you for your time, doctor." Both men rose to their feet.

"Anytime." Dr. Taylor looking relieved as he was shaking Jarrod’s hand.

Leaving the doctor’s office, Jarrod was feeling shut out of a town, generated by fear of reprisal. Knowing J.T. had been a powerful influence with the townspeople, it was Angelique they feared and who was launching a cover-up.

That evening, Jarrod was weary, his neck and back were aching. His eyes were tired from sitting the entire day and browsing through the accounts and organizing J.T’s papers. He stopped for a moment, and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms up overhead when he heard knocking at the door. He leaned forward again on the desk.

"Come in."

"Mr. Barkley, I brought you some coffee, you didn’t eat much at dinner."

"Thank you, Maggie," Jarrod said, clearing a place on the desk for the tray. Maggie was sluggish, moving to the desk and setting the tray down.

"Terrible thing about Miss Eleanor," Maggie said, pouring some coffee.

"I just heard her scream and tumble down the stairs. Did you see or hear anything?" Maggie glanced up from her task. "You were in the house?"

"I was but there wasn’t anything I could do and Mrs. Hallowell told me to go back to bed." Jarrod thought it was strange that Maggie would react that way, from what he had seen Maggie seemed quite fond of Eleanor. "Sugar?" Jarrod studied Maggie for a moment. Her hair was a rusty, frizzy dull gray.

"No, no thank you," he replied as Maggie was pulling one of the lifeless tendrils away from her face, tucking it back in on her head.

"Cream?" Maggie asked in her colorless voice.

"No." Jarrod kept watching her face but it remained blank. Like her voice, her face worn and colorless, looking the same as pudding.

"Would you like anything else?" She asked, wiping her hands on her faded beige gingham dress.

"An answer to my question."

"I don’t know anymore than what I’ve told you. Goodnight, Mr. Barkley." Maggie answered, leaving abruptly. Jarrod was dissatisfied with the answers he had been receiving and thinking how he could break the barrier of secrecy surrounding him. Setting his cup down, he resumed his work. Then hearing voices down the hall, Jarrod rose. Going to the door, he opened it a crack. Listening, he heard Angelique and Maggie arguing.

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing, I told you, nothing." Jarrod, trying to assemble the pieces in his mind had a fair idea of what was taking place. Jarrod, waiting to hear more, heard only silence. Peeking out, he saw no one and shut the door.

The next day, after Eleanor’s funeral, a somber group, of Cliff, Jarrod, Maggie and Angelique gathered in the living room. Maggie sobbing while the two men removed their hats and stood quietly. Angelique, draping herself on the couch began meticulously taking off her gloves one finger at a time.

" I suppose we should canonize Eleanor," said Angelique, bored with the funeral proceedings. Jarrod glared at her, thinking the remark was inappropriate. As was his habit, Cliff was smoothing out the sides of his hair. Now looking sideways at Cliff, Jarrod regarded Cliff’s vanity as nauseating. At the same time, Jarrod was trying to imagine an association with this man in the legal profession. He couldn’t. Disgusted, Jarrod sat down. Cliff tossing his hat onto a chair and going to the bar asked, "Would anyone like a drink? I know I could use one."

"Yes, thank you, Cliff dear." Cliff looking over at Jarrod, who was lost in thought.

"Jarrod?"

"Huh?" Jarrod glanced up at Cliff.

"Drink?"

"Yes, thank you."

Maggie continued sniffing, sobbing and blowing her nose.

"Oh, Maggie, stop all that caterwauling," Angelique said brusquely, removing her pearl hatpin and hat. Maggie hurt, quickly stifled her sobs. Angelique plucking at the black silk ribbons and black plumes on her dark blue velvet hat then admired it from every angle as if nothing else mattered. "Maggie don’t you have some work waiting for you in the kitchen?" Maggie’s eyes narrowed and hardened. Blowing her nose, Maggie fled from the room. Cliff handed Angelique and Jarrod their drinks.

"Angelique is this necessary?" Asked Jarrod, unable to restrain his anger.

"She needs to be reminded who is in charge here. They all do and to know their place." Jarrod’s eyes were widening and his mouth tightening into a straight line. Jarrod, understanding Angelique’s bitterness and attacks were the result of losing a life she was born to. Yet, he could only see a careless, pampered child. A catalyst who preyed on the weaknesses of others. Those, like Eleanor, whom Angelique viewed, were as defective as the environment Angelique was forced to live in.

Jarrod, deciding to change the subject, could not wait to watch Angelique squirm. "You never mentioned Hazel Montgomery," Jarrod stated, sipping his drink. Angelique stopped lounging, shooting up into a sitting position and facing Jarrod. Jarrod delighted at her reaction and knowing the mouse was finally in the trap.

"What about her?" She said sharply.

"You did know about her. Yesterday, you denied J.T. even had any living relatives." Jarrod paused, running a finger around the rim of his glass and looking at the deep amber liquid at the bottom. "She could have a claim on the estate." Angelique liked it better when she was manipulating Jarrod; she did not like his lawyer’s tricks.

"He didn’t leave anything to her."

"I recalled he had a sister. I didn’t know she was alive. She is his only living blood relative. Isn’t she?" Jarrod asked, wondering if there were more relatives ready to fall out of the closet.

"I believe so. But what difference does it make? I’m his wife, legally I’m entitled."

"This is true unless you contest it and with Eleanor gone, Hazel can put in a claim."

"She is well off and doesn’t need the money or the ranch."

"That is beside the point. The court will recognize her as someone who has a legitimate claim on the estate if you should choose to contest J.T’s will. Also, there is a matter of Eleanor’s death."

"What about Eleanor? It was an accident."

"Was it?" Jarrod asked in a smooth, husky voice. Angelique’s muscles were tightening and her body rigid. Like tossing dynamite into an unstable area, Jarrod was waiting for the explosion.

"This is a Salem witch hunt," she shrieked. Looking over at Cliff, she said, "Why don’t you do something? Why do you let him talk to me that way?"

"I can’t see as I can argue against it. Legally, Jarrod is correct."

"Oh, you never had any muscle." After pausing a moment, then slowly rising, Angelique regained her composure. "If you gentlemen will excuse me." Before leaving the room, she turned to Cliff, "Cliff I’d like to speak with you later."

"Yes, of course." Jarrod thinking he would like to have an ear to that door.

"Cliff, since you agree with me, why don’t you talk some sense into her."

"I don’t know what she’s thinking but I guarantee you this, you won’t like it." Cliff stated firmly as Jarrod downed the rest of his drink. Frowning, Jarrod looked at Cliff.

"Is that a threat?"

"No of course not. I’m just warning you about Angelique."

"No warning necessary." Jarrod put down the glass and left the room.

A couple of days later, Jarrod noticed in the accounts, among other odd and interesting things, that Angelique had given a large sum of money to Maggie. He was ready and waiting on the front porch for Angelique. Angelique was smoothing out the wrinkles on the bodice of her dark green velvet riding habit as she was walking toward the house. She stopped when she saw the bad weather that happened to be Jarrod.

"Jarrod," She said, pulling back the veil on her hat.

"Angelique, why did you pay Maggie two thousand dollars?"

"Severance pay," she replied, mounting the steps. Jarrod rising grabbed her by the arm as she was walking by him. Pulling her back and looking at her head-on, he asked,

"She left?"

"Went to live with her sister in Modesto."

"Why?"

"Am I being cross examined? She was unhappy here after J.T. and Eleanor died." Angelique, looking down at Jarrod’s grasp on her arm, gingerly removed his hand.

"I see."

"No, I don’t think you do. You shouldn’t be so suspicious, Jarrod." She ran a forefinger along the lapel of his gray suit coat. "You still think I had something to do with Eleanor’s accident and Maggie leaving?" Licking her lips, she gazed up at him. His eyes met hers but his were cold and uninviting.

"Maybe." Just then Cliff rode up. Angelique left Jarrod, trotting down the steps to Cliff. While talking, they kept their backs to Jarrod. Jarrod feeling the entire situation was futile, and as always being a stubborn Barkley, he refused to yield. Knowing he might be in danger, the truth far outweighed his safety. As he was going back inside the house, he thought about his next move.

That evening, after dinner, Jarrod went outside for some air and to smoke his cigar. Jarrod was thinking that one more evening of tales about the old plantation in Louisiana might be enough for him to leave without knowing the truth. Cliff neglected to respond except with the usual uh-huh and a nod. Jarrod did not doubt an affair between the two or a plot because there was no other reason for Cliff's interest in Angelique except for her physical attractiveness. Considering all this, Jarrod heard voices coming from the stable.

"You saw nothing." Jarrod detected the voice of Cliff Ross.

"I know what I saw. Maggie didn’t leave town." The other voice was Corky. Jarrod knew that whiskey baritone. "I’ll tell the sheriff unless you make it worth my while not to."

"Listen you old sot, you keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. And don’t talk to Jarrod Barkley. You understand?" Jarrod inhaled on his cigar, gradually blowing the smoke out into the air. Once seeing Cliff leave the stable, Jarrod went down to the stable to talk with Corky. As he entered the stable, Corky was about to leave, as Jarrod stopped him with a hand pressing against Corky’s chest.

"Just a minute Corky. I’d like to have a little talk with you."

"I’ve got nothing to say to you."

"Isn’t that what Cliff told you?" Jarrod taking the cigar out from between his teeth slowly blew out more smoke. Then looking at Corky, he lowered his eyes and asked, "Where’s Maggie?"

"I don’t know. The last I knew she left to see her sister."

"You know she didn’t. Now where is she?"

"I told you I don’t know anymore than that."

"That’s not what you told Cliff Ross just now." Jarrod paused, softening his approach. "Corky, if you know anything about Maggie’s disappearance and Eleanor’s death, you better tell me." Corky, looking away was deliberately ignoring Jarrod’s questions. "Do you want to be an accessory to murder or accused of blackmail?" Corky had not thought of that.

"I can’t help you." Corky left the stable. Mounting his horse, he looked over at Jarrod, leaning in the doorway, still smoking his cigar. Corky appeared as if he wanted to blurt out everything but then rode off. Jarrod knew he was the weak link.

The next morning, Jarrod was trotting down the stairs when he heard a knock on the door. Knowing Maggie was not around to answer the door and that it was beneath Angelique’s dignity to do so, Jarrod answered it. Jarrod opening the door, saw the sheriff standing there.

"I’m sheriff Holman. Is Mrs. Hallowell about the place?"

"I’m Jarrod Barkley, J.T. Hallowell’s attorney. Please come in sheriff." The sheriff swaggered in, keeping his thumbs tucked into his gun belt and his hands casually on his hips. "I’ll see if I can find Mrs. Hallowell."

"That won’t be necessary if she’s busy." The sheriff added, removing his hat.

"I doubt she’s that busy but as you wish."

"I can tell you. I don’t think it’d much matter to Mrs. Hallowell anyway." The sheriff paused while caressing the rim of his hat. "It’s Corky Reilly."

"What about him?"

"He was found dead up the old Sawyer Road."

"How?"

"Accident. Probably drunk, fell off his horse last night and hit his head on a rock." Jarrod was thinking how convenient this all was after the conversation he overheard between Cliff and Corky the night before. Jarrod, noticed out of the corner of his eye, Angelique, lurking outside the garden door and listening.

"Anything else sheriff?"

"You will tell Mrs. Hallowell?"

"Yes, yes of course and thank you for coming over," Jarrod said, ushering the sheriff out the door. For all the sheriff’s stagnate actions he seemed eager to know more about what was happening. Jarrod figuring the young man was looking for any crisis to jump-start his day but Jarrod did not have time for it.

After shutting the door on the sheriff, Jarrod turned, facing Angelique behind him. As always, she was impeccably dressed in light green silk, every hair in its place and controlled.

"I guess you heard," Jarrod said.

"Heard what?" Angelique answered innocently.

"Oh, come on Angelique, you know Corky is dead."

"That’s a shame."

"I can see you’re all broken up about it."

"How did it happen?"

"You heard the sheriff. Besides, you probably knew all about it long before anyone else around here."

"Are you accusing me of murder?"

"I think you had something to with it."

"That’s absurd," she fired back. "You better have proof."

"Believe me I’m going to get all the proof I need." Jarrod grabbed his hat off the hall table and left.

All the culmination of Angelique’s cunning would be wasted if she did not try one last tactic on Jarrod. She went out the door, running after Jarrod. She caught him just as he was bringing his horse out of the stable.

"Jarrod listen to me," she pleaded.

"Spare me the dramatics Angelique, I’ve seen it many times in my practice as a lawyer."

"Can’t we find a solution?"

"I’m afraid your solutions are bit unethical and most likely highly illegal," he said, mounting his horse. Jarrod, looking down on the iron azalea, noticed she was barren of any emotion. Even her desperation was well hidden. "There’s nothing more to be said." Jarrod kicked his horse, rode off, passing Cliff on his way. Cliff stopping his horse dismounted.

"Where is he going in such a hurry?"

"Town I suspect."

"What’s he going to do there?"

"Oh, Cliff don’t be stupid. Jarrod certainly isn’t, he’s on to us." Cliff was watching Angelique’s face.

"You’re in love with him."

"Don’t be ridiculous." Pausing, she then said, "I’ll admit he’s very attractive, indeed, but also a very difficult man."

"Takes one to know one."

"Something has to be done about him. With him out of the way, I can easily claim the estate."

"What about Hazel Hallowell?"

"I never wrote her that her brother died."

"Won’t she be suspicious if she doesn’t hear from him?"

"You ask too many questions. Stop playing devil’s advocate and talking problems. I’ll take care of her when the time comes. But Jarrod is our immediate problem. Any ideas?"

"Accident?" Angelique thought for a moment.

"Perhaps."

As Jarrod was riding back from town, he met up with Cliff.

"Good afternoon, Jarrod."

"Cliff," Jarrod nodded. Cliff then pulled out a gun from his holster. Jarrod half-surprised, gazing down the barrel.

"What are you planning Cliff?" Jarrod asked, remaining calm and thinking Cliff was desperate but not foolish enough to pull the trigger

"This is a robbery."

"Is that the way it was with Corky?"

"Corky was drunk, it didn’t take much to arrange his accident.

"Wasn’t that handy. And Maggie?"

"She fell into an old mine. Most unfortunate."

"I’m sure. I knew something was wrong when her sister wired me from Modesto, stating Maggie never arrived and that she didn’t even know she was coming."

"Stop talking." Jarrod detecting Cliff’s nervousness decided this was the time to take advantage. Cliff taking his eyes off Jarrod briefly took out a handkerchief and was wiping his forehead. Jarrod laid his hand on his thigh, keeping his eyes fixed on Cliff. Jarrod then moved his hand to his holster, whipping out his gun.

"Drop it Cliff." Cliff did not have time to react and was visibly trembling. "I said drop it," Jarrod snapped. Cliff reluctantly dropped the gun.

"Come on, we’re going to have a little talk with Angelique." Both men rode off down the road to the ranch.

When they arrived at the house, Jarrod was still holding a gun on Cliff as both men dismounted.

"Move," Jarrod ordered, poking Cliff in the back with the gun. As they both mounted the steps, the door went flying open and Angelique stood, pointing a gun at Jarrod.

"Drop it counselor." Jarrod remained calm; knowing this was a woman who killed a Yankee soldier without remorse.

"You don’t want anymore blood shed, do you Angelique? And how will you explain my death to the sheriff?"

"The robbery plan can still work." Suddenly, Jarrod pulled Cliff over in front of him as a shield. Jarrod then pushed Cliff toward Angelique; but before getting a shot off, Angelique moving the shotgun away from Cliff, fired, striking Jarrod in his arm. Jarrod immediately clutched his arm, dropping his gun. Cliff whirling around, seized Jarrod’s gun.

"Now you move it," Cliff said, pointing the gun at Jarrod. Unwilling, yet realizing he had no choice, Jarrod did, as Cliff demanded. Angelique backed up, still holding the gun on Jarrod. Cliff pressed the gun in Jarrod’s back, urging him forward inside.

"All right, now what?" asked Jarrod.

"That’s up to you," Angelique replied. "I’m afraid that for the time being, you’ll have to remain here as my guest."

"Good old southern hospitality," Jarrod said, smiling at Angelique.

"Don’t waste words with me Jarrod. I didn’t get this far by making stupid mistakes." All of a sudden Angelique’s face softened. " It’s a shame you couldn’t have been more cooperative." Jarrod glared at her. She backed off, pointing the gun at him. "Now, get upstairs." With both of them behind him, Jarrod reluctantly climbed the stairs. Reaching the top of the stairs, Jarrod turned to face them.

"Which one of you killed Eleanor?"

"I had nothing to do with that," Cliff piped up. Angelique stared at Cliff. Jarrod, noticing out of the corner of his eye a heavy statuette of two lovers.

"Is that what you used on Eleanor, Angelique?" Pointing to the statue on the little hall table. As Jarrod began walking toward the table, Angelique yelled, "Shut up and move." Cliff came between Jarrod and the statue. Taking Jarrod roughly by his left arm, Cliff pushed him down the hall to his room. Opening the door, Cliff shoved Jarrod inside, locking the door. Jarrod did not like being trapped like this but first his wound needed tending. Jarrod noticed the blood all over his hand, seeping through his fingers and staining his coat.

After cleaning the wound, he ripped up one of his shirts for bandages, Jarrod was relieved to see that the bullet had not gone through but had only grazed him. It was difficult to bandage his upper arm while getting it taut, but he managed to do it, stopping the bleeding. He then put his shirt back on. As he was buttoning it up, he was planning his next move. As he was tucking in his shirt tails, he remembered the ledgers and account books he had been studying. Recalling seeing Cliff’s name on numerous checks with large sums of money, he devised a plan. If the plan worked, he would be out of this predicament soon. The only other winning card he had to play was the hope that Hazel Montogomery, having received his wire, would arrive soon.

Jarrod decided that sitting around and waiting for the sealing of his fate was not a productive activity. Therefore, he began searching for something to pick the lock of his door. He saw a silver letter opener on the desk and went for it as he heard a click in the lock. Just as he was about to grab it, Angelique entered the room with a gun in one hand and legal papers in the other. Moving away from the desk, he would pass on being adversarial.

"Angelique."

"Jarrod, I want you to sign these papers."

"Oh?"

"Cliff drew them up and they’re legal." Jarrod, sitting on the end of the bed, on the green chenille bedspread, draped his arms over the mahogany footboard. Gazing up at Angelique seductively, said, "I’m sure if Cliff drew them up, they’re terribly legal."

"Just sign them." Angelique was angrier with Jarrod for being warm and inviting rather than being a stubborn Barkley. "Why must you be so difficult?"

"It’s part of the Barkley charm. But you like it, don’t you? A real challenge," he said, winking at her. Like a sidewinder, Angelique moved to the desk. She waved the gun at him, encouraging him to come to the desk and sign the papers. "I don’t think I will sign those papers. As long as I don’t sign them, I’ll remain alive."

"If you don’t, I’ll kill you."

"Not if you want those papers signed." Jarrod leaned his chin on his arms.

"Damn you Jarrod." Jarrod being irresistible was a lure but the money meant her freedom. What she really wanted was both. "I can still contest it in court."

"Ah, but there’s the little matter of Hazel Montgomery to be considered. You know that if Hazel gets wind of her brother’s death she will put a claim in on his estate."

"That’s why you have to sign."

"Did you know Cliff was embezzling funds from the ranch accounts?" Angelique’s eyes widened. Jarrod was bluffing yet also knew there was a one hundred percent chance that it was true. He just did not have time to gather the proof he needed. The accounts were all he had.

"You’re lying."

"Ask him." Angelique stood staring at Jarrod. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the sun reflecting off a shiny object and saw the letter opener. Jarrod’s eyes were fixed on the letter opener. Before leaving the room, Angelique picked up the letter opener, went out, slamming the door shut and locking it. Jarrod’s heart sank. With the letter opener gone, what else would he be able to use to pick the lock? Now, he still had to think of a way to escape.

It did not take long before Jarrod heard Angelique and Cliff quarreling downstairs. Jarrod went to the door to listen. It was as if Cliff was battling with a raging forest fire. The usual delicate, pastel magnolia tones were anything but a symphony to anyone’s ear. Jarrod had never heard Angelique’s strident voice. Yet, not doubting for a moment she was capable of a Jekyll and Hyde personality. The argument only served to cement Jarrod’s suspicions about the ranch accounts. Naturally, Cliff was denying it but Angelique believed Jarrod. Jarrod then heard some racket, a loud crashing noise and silence. Jarrod was then wondering what had happened. He kept listening but heard nothing. He then heard Angelique calling out for Bart, one of the ranch hands. Jarrod went over to the window. Parting the lacey curtain, he noticed Bart leisurely walking toward the house. He went back to listen at the door and now heard Angelique sobbing. She could have matched some of the best actresses in the country. He could not hear anything and went back to the window, waiting and watching. The silence was eerie and Jarrod could only speculate on what may have occurred. Not long after the scuffle he had heard downstairs, Jarrod saw Bart coming out of the house. He was holding one end of a rolled up Oriental rug. Then Jarrod saw Angelique; her delicate frame struggling to hold her end of the burden. Together they managed to get the rug into the buckboard. Bart then continued walking on to the stable as Angelique disappeared into the house. She came out seconds later, mounting a forest green velvet hat on her head and adjusting it perfectly. She looked as if she was dressed for an afternoon tea rather than a murder scene. Or at least that is what Jarrod was thinking as he watched her. She scurried up into the buckboard and cracking the reins on the horse’s back, they were off, moving down the road.

He let the curtain drop back, thinking what he would do next. He parted the curtain again and Angelique had now vanished. His eye then caught site of the housekeeper, a young woman in her mid-twenties. She was about to enter the house when he began tapping on the window. Her head shot up. He lowered his eyes while smiling at her. She was grinning as she leered at him. He began undoing a few buttons on his shirt. She then continued into the house. Jarrod was then wondering if his enticement would work. Hearing the front door open and close, he then heard footsteps on the stairs. From what Jarrod had observed she was gabby about her collection of suitors and bold as well. She had no doubt that she would accept his offer. Also, he knew she had a set of keys to every room in the house. Then, hearing the key click in the lock, Jarrod was looking around the room for a weapon. Seeing his razor on the washstand, he began moving to it as the doorknob twisted. Jarrod froze as the door cautiously creaked open. The housekeeper stood, leaning against the doorframe, moistening her lips. Obviously aroused by Jarrod’s tease, she was holding up the keys in front of him and said, "I’d bet you’d like to have these, wouldn’t you lover." Then she jangled the keys. That was the most pleasing melody to Jarrod if only he could get them from her. Then with stealthy movements, she walked over to him. Jarrod remaining rigid began breathing harder as he was backing up further against the desk. She looked up into his lovely, bedroom eyes and stroked his neck with her forefinger, dragging it down to his chest. While trying to unbutton his shirt, she clamped her lips on his, forcing a kiss. Jarrod feeling around for the paperweight seized it and brought it up to strike a glancing blow. The housekeeper fell to the floor, clutching the side of her head. Jarrod fleeing from the room then hurried down the stairs. Stopping at the bottom, he looked in all directions. He continued running out the door toward the stable. Even though his heart was speeding, he ignored his own fear. Once inside and spotting his horse, he unlatched the stall door. Just then he felt a stinging blow to the back of his head and slumped to the floor.

Jarrod woke up woozy to the scent of a woman’s perfume. It was familiar. It was Angelique’s perfume. Moaning as he tried moving his head, he opened his eyes.

"That was a foolish thing to do." Turning his head in the direction of the voice, his eyes focused on Angelique, sitting on the bed beside him. Jarrod was rubbing the back of his head as he pushed himself up, leaning with his back against the headboard.

"What happened to Cliff?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cliff was here. I heard the two of you arguing." Jarrod continued rubbing the back of his head but the throbbing wouldn’t go away. Angelique reached over to a washbowl on the bedside table, wringing out a cold cloth and handing it to Jarrod.

"You must be mistaken." Jarrod pressed the cold, soothing cloth against the back of his head. Angelique reached over again, grabbing a pen and the legal forms for Jarrod to sign. "Now will you sign this."

"I’m not mistaken about what I heard. Where did you go just now?"

"Into town."

"I think you killed Cliff and got rid of the body."

"Sign," she said, shoving the papers and pen under his nose.

"For the last time, I’m not signing." Angelique glared at him, her grip tightening on the pen. Jarrod, looking at her and pointing to the pen said, "I believe the ink has dried." She clearly was not in the mood for Jarrod’s flip remarks or his attempt at wit. Angelique leaned forward and closer to Jarrod, making him uncomfortable.

"Sign," she hissed through gritted teeth. She was threatening but Jarrod regarded her coolly. "You know what will happen if you don’t."

"You’ll kill me. Go ahead but my family knows where I am. Someone will start searching for Cliff and..."

"I took care of Cliff. No one will look for him."

"And me?" She straightened up.

"You know it’s a shame, you’re such a fine looking man and a Yankee too."

"Too bad," Jarrod said, innocently. Jarrod then leaned forward, moving closer to Angelique with his lips nearly brushing hers. Closing her eyes, she detected the subtle scent of his cologne. "But you haven’t forgotten Hazel Montgomery," he said in a silky smooth voice. Her eyes popped open. "That’s why you’re so desperate to have me sign those papers. Besides as a lawyer, I always advise my clients never to sign anything they haven’t read first. I always take my own advice. And never sign under duress." Jarrod’s hand began gliding over to the papers lying on the bed near him. Jumping away from Jarrod, Angelique whisked the papers away from his grasp. "I wired Hazel Montgomery, she should be here soon." Angelique stared at Jarrod. Jarrod was satisfied to see Angelique as a cluster of nerves. Angelique, knowing Jarrod was too honorable a man to be deceitful, knew there were no other alternatives. He had become her punishment, like Sodom and Gomorrah.

Knowing she had no weapon with her this time, he made another attempt to escape. He lunged for her, losing her balance, she fell against the desk. Dashing for the door, she reached out grabbing him by the arm. Pushing her off, she fell to the floor. He ran out of the room and down the stairs. He opened the front door and saw Bart coming toward the house. Jarrod shut the door and scurried into the living room. He was about to run out the door to the garden when he heard Angelique rushing down the stairs. He then hid around the corner as the front door was opening. Jarrod catching his breath remained very still, waiting for his opportunity.

"Did you see him?"

"Who?"

"Jarrod Barkley." Jarrod closed his eyes, listening to the conversation.

"No, ma’am."

"Well he’s no magician. Check out the garden and I’ll check out back."

"Bart strolled gently into the living room. Jarrod pressed his back against the wall, hoping Bart wouldn’t turn and see him. Jarrod softly moved up behind Bart, whipping Bart’s gun out of its holster. Spinning around, Bart squatted and was about to jump him.

"Alright, hold it right there." Jarrod said, taking careful aim. Bart backed off, realizing the odds were not in his favor.

"Don’t try anything stupid, you might get hurt," Bart stated calmly.

"I was about to say the same thing to you my friend."

"He’s not out there," Angelique said walking toward them. While taking his eyes off Bart, Bart swung out with his fist, clipping Jarrod on the jaw. Jarrod dropped to the floor as Bart was picking up the gun. Angelique wandered over, looking down at Jarrod.

"Take him upstairs to his room and this time tie him up. He’s been nothing but trouble." Bart picked up Jarrod, slinging him over his shoulder and carrying him upstairs. "I’ll take care of Hazel. And after that’s done, Jarrod will be the last to go.... Nothing will stand in my way after that," Angelique said to herself, leaning on the banister, and thinking about her door prize.

Hazel Montgomery rented a buggy and was on her way out to the ranch. A handsome woman, her red hair-poking out from under her wide brim canvas hat. Forthright and rugged, she was determined to find out why she was never notified about her brother’s death. Slowing the horse down, she pulled over to the side of the road. Removing her hat, she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The leather belt was choking her waist as she felt a thin river of perspiration trickling down her back, dampening her white cotton shirt. Popping her hat back on her head, she took out her water canteen. Before putting the canteen to her lips, a shot rang out. A Bullet went whizzing by her and through the canteen. Spooking the horse, he started to gallop away as Hazel jumped out of the buggy, throwing herself in the dirt road. She remained there motionless.

Jarrod opened his eyes, feeling the throbbing in his jaw and wanting to rub it but could not. His hands were tied behind him to the bed. The ropes were tight and pinching his wrists. Trying to wriggle his hands free he realized there was no slack. Then he remembered his razor. But it was across the room on the washstand and there no way for him to reach it. He continued trying to loosen the ropes but the ropes only dug into skin, causing rope burns. Angry and feeling helpless, he kept trying until his wrists started bleeding. He could feel the wet and bleeding skin under the tight, prickliness of the ropes. Gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the pain, he continued to loosen the ropes. Just then he heard the key click in the lock and the door opening. He was hoping it might be the lewd housekeeper. Yet, knowing she might not chance intimacy again with him after he tried to bash her head in. He did not like doing it but it was survival of the fittest. Hearing a swishing of silk, Angelique appeared. With a gun pointed at Jarrod, she stood staring at him.

"Are you sure you won’t change your mind?"

"About what? Signing that paper? Either way it’s my death warrant."

"Oh, you needn’t worry about that," she said, moving to the washstand. She stood over the washstand, gazing at herself in the mirror and twisting a few strands of hair between her fingers. Suddenly, Jarrod became concerned. "Once this is all done, I can sell this dreadful place and return to my father’s plantation and restore it."

"What are you talking about?" She tucked the loose strands of hair back into place then smoothing it out. Jarrod hoping she would not notice the razor. Turning to him, she said, "Hazel Montgomery couldn’t make it after all." Jarrod swallowed hard, his eyes widening and his body stiffening. Hazel was his last chance for escape. Angelique leaning on the foot board leered at Jarrod. "What a waste, you’re so attractive." Jarrod saw this as an opportunity to gain back her good will with his charm. Trying to relax, he said, "Maybe we can work out some kind of deal between us."

"Oh? And what do you have in mind counselor?"

"Well, I can sign that paper and as you say Hazel is no longer a problem and you said yourself that I have no proof you killed anyone. It’s my word against yours."

"Cliff killed Maggie and Corky." Jarrod knowing then that she murdered Cliff and Eleanor. Angelique walked over to Jarrod as he flattened his back against the head board. He thought of bringing his leg up and kicking her but he was still in a predicament being tied to the bed. He opted for convincing her instead.

"So, what do you say? I’ll keep my mouth shut and you let me go. If the paper is legal it should stand up in court." She stroked the side of his face with her forefinger as Jarrod was turning his head away. A minor yet repulsive act. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her take aim.

"You’re my problem, I can’t let you go now. You know more than you should and that makes you more of a liability than an asset."

"Make that two liabilities," a voice came from the doorway. Angelique, wheeled around, firing at the same time Hazel was firing her shot gun. Angelique, dropping her weapon and falling backwards against the wall, slid down into a crumpled heap. Hazel lowered the shot gun.

"Hot damn, I always hated the hell out of that woman," Hazel stated, stepping into the room.

"Hazel Montgomery?" Jarrod asked surprised and grateful to see her.

"That’s right handsome. You sure had her corset laces tied in knots. Who are you?"

"Jarrod Barkley, I wired you."

"Say, you’re the lawyer."

"I am...would you be kind enough to untie me?"

"No problem, handsome." Leaning her shotgun against the foot board of the bed, Hazel went over to Jarrod and began untying him. "She didn’t even tell me my brother died. I knew nothing about it until you wired me. Where is Eleanor?"

"Dead, I’m afraid. Angelique killed her." Suddenly, Hazel softened.

"Little Eleanor.... Why that kid wouldn’t hurt an insect. But that bloodsucker," she said, pointing to Angelique’s lifeless body.

"I thought she killed you," Jarrod said, throwing the ropes aside.

"Oh, she tried and busted up a good canteen." Moving closer to Jarrod, she winked at him. "But I outfoxed her." Jarrod smiling could not help thinking how much Hazel reminded him of J.T. "You have a nice smile handsome. Real warm and welcoming. Most lawyers I know are grim as hell not to mention as dried up and dusty as those legal books. Anytime I need a good lawyer, mind if I call on you?"

"Not at all. I owe you one for saving my life."

"Hell, it was nothing," she said brushing off her good deed. They heard a knock on the front door. "Come on handsome, that ought to be the sheriff. I told him to meet me here," she said, pulling Jarrod by the hand. She continued talking all the way downstairs. "I knew Angelique was up to no good. I wouldn’t have put it passed her to kill my brother, that is if she thought she could get away with it."

"That thought had crossed my mind."

"How many murders did the magnolia rack up?"

"Four so far."

"Hot damn."

"You know something."

"What?"

"You remind me a little of my mother."

"Is that right? Well, she must be quite a gal," Hazel said beaming.

"That she is," replied Jarrod. Hazel opening the door saw the sheriff standing and holding Bart by his shirt collar.

"I found this character trying to high-tail it out of here. Anyone want to fill me in?" the sheriff asked, casually strolling into the house. Jarrod turning his attention to Bart, began to fire off questions.

"Did Angelique kill Cliff Ross?"

"I had nothing to do with the killing," his answer was quick and nervous.

"I didn’t ask you that," Jarrod snapped.

"I like this lawyer, very aggressive," Hazel broke in.

"Yes...yes, she did. She told me it was an accident. She was crying, said it was an accident. He was trying to attack her when she hit him with a poker. She was afraid, so I helped her wrap the body up in a rug and put it in the buck board."

"Hell, the tales that woman could dream up," Hazel added, shaking her head.

"Where’s the body?" Asked the sheriff.

"There’s a pond not too far from here. I think she took him there."

"Where is Mrs. Hallowell now?" asked the sheriff.

"Upstairs, dead, I shot her. She tried to kill the lawyer."

"It was self defense, I’ll testify to that," added Jarrod.

"This is a mess," sheriff Holman stated. "Come on you, let’s go," ushering Bart out the door. Both Jarrod and Hazel followed them out. Hazel took a wide stance, planting her hands on her hips.

"Nice place."

"It sure is," replied Jarrod.

"I guess I can make something out of it. But I’ll tell you this handsome, hot damn, that fancy furniture she’s got stuffed into every nook and cranny of that house is going out the door." Jarrod burst out laughing, thinking J.T. had not left after all, he just returned home.