The crickets finished their selections by Mozart and, after a lowing plaudit from the barn’s milk cow, their chirping concerto continued with a collection of Beethoven favorites.
Kinsey’s melancholy demeanor had dropped out of the evening sky so unexpectedly, Scott swore he heard a panicked Chicken Little cluck down the road. Attempts to converse with his tight-lipped cousin only extracted one-word answers sprinkled over her quietude.
The young lady’s silence solidified rapidly into a stone wall. In order to break through, selecting a sledgehammer proved tempting, although a small chisel might suffice.
“I’d like to view these stars better, but… I guess I can hold off for a spell.” Legs stretched out while fingers laced behind Scott’s head.
A countdown began on what Winnie called the shilly-shally - hesitant, silent uncertainty dusted with doubt. If he could count backward from ten to one without a questioning interruption, then perhaps that sledgehammer would be required after all.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
“What do you mean viewing these stars better?” Kinsey remained wrapped up in her sitting self-hug.
Under the cover of darkness, dimples acknowledged the first chip in the wall. “Don’t get me wrong. This here is fine… for now. However, I prefer observing the full potential of the universe.” The countdown restarted.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
“Full potential?” Arms slowly released drawn-up knees.
“It’s not a problem, Freckles. I’ll wait until you retire for the night.”
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
“You’re waiting for me to go to bed?”
“I certainly don’t want you tagging along.”
Ten.
Ni-
“Tagging along?” Feet hit the ground as hands went to hips. “Honestly Scott, your choice of words are better suited for talking to a child.”
“Look. You’re the one who frequently points out how much older I am. What do you expect?” False indignation concealed a growing smile over the effectiveness of a small chisel.
“Did it ever occur to you that I, too, might appreciate the universe's full potential?”
“It has. But, the thought of hearing you whine over the journey to do so -”
“I don’t whine.”
An eye roll silently commented. Rising, Scott scrutinized his possible travel companion to observe the heavens. “This is against my better judgment...” The candle relit for the third time. “All right.” A few glances over the shoulder and a wagging finger added a touch of intrigue. “Follow me.”
Entering through the outside entrance of the darkened kitchen, a faint aroma from supper’s smoked ham mingled with the soapy scent of Maria’s freshly scrubbed pots and pans. The flickering candlelight encouraged stacked bowls and baskets to cast their skewed dancing shadows across the walls.
A childhood memory returned. “Ah, lurking pirates and soulless vampires.”
“What?!” Fingernails dug into Scott’s upper arm - the claw of a bodysnatcher.
“Quiet.” Scott pried Kinsey’s fingers loose. “Avoiding discovery is crucial to the full potential so listen closely. We’re taking the backstairs. The fifth and seventh steps creak -”
“Yes, I know.”
“All right. Well, once we’re in the hallway -”
“Yes, I know. Moaning floorboards - one on the immediate left, two more five paces down and on the right.”
An eyebrow raised. “I’m starting to understand the success of your midnight run to Stockton.”
“Or your moonlight swims with the McGuire twins.” The candle’s amber light softened Kinsey’s smirk.
“As I stated earlier… quiet.”
Carefully ascended stairs produced the faintest of creaks while drunken Billy Yank strides eliminated floorboard detection in the hallway. The maneuvers came to a brief halt in front of Scott’s bedroom door with the lieutenant’s military rise of a hand.
“Wait here.” A folded flannel blanket was retrieved from the room, passed down to his private and the secret mission continued to a narrow steep staircase which led to the ceiling. Climbing a few steps, Scott’s hand reached the inconspicuous trap door and pushed it open, revealing a black, square hole.
“Wait! Where are we going?”
A possible deserter was detected amongst the troops. Scott turned and glanced down at his cousin. “The tower room.”
“Are there bats.” Kinsey’s question-turned-statement indicated her opinion had decided the answer.
“Bats?” Squinting up into the dark portal, Scott guessed by now any little creatures had taken flight for their evening feeding and thus he played the odds. “Nope.”
“I swear, Scott Garrett, if you’re lying to me -”
“My ears detect whining.”
“Your ears detect my distaste for those bloody flying rats.”
“I see.” An authoritative tone dished out a directive. “Kinsey Rose, I think an about-face and to bed would be for the best. Good night.” A few more steps and Scott entered the tower room from the waist up. Setting the candle aside, he hoisted up his lower half to join the upper half, stood and waited.
A blanket popped out of the hole followed by a little prairie dog. “I’m not sleepy.”
“Very good.” Extended hands assisted the young lady in reaching the room. Opening one of the arched windows, Scott sat and swung his legs over the sill in one fluid motion. A short drop into darkness landed boots on an outside ledge below. “Give me the candle.”
Kinsey handed over the only item providing the cousins a faint light on the moonless night. “Are you certain we have your father’s permission to be up here?”
“Permission? Freckles, when did you start concerning yourself with having Murdoch Lancer’s permission?”
Silence.
A raised candle illuminated the lack of a response. His cousin’s eyes spoke what her mouth had earlier refused to vocalize. Murdoch’s permission. An unraveled mystery solved. She’s worried Murdoch won't give his permission to Seth. “Toss me the blanket and then ease yourself out and over. You won’t fall. I’m right here.”
The flannel bundle cascaded from the tower room window followed by shoed feet and bellowing petticoats attached to the rest of Kinsey. Another step down off the ledge and the cousins were standing on the hacienda’s flat roof. The guide swept his arm out while bending at the waist. “This way, my lady, to the full potential of the universe.”
Moving forward several yards, the journey ceased. “Stop.” Setting the candle at his feet, Scott calculated the distance traveled. “Yes. This is the spot. We’ll spread out the blanket here.”
“For a picnic?”
Dim light shadowed a boyish grin as the flannel unfolded. “I guess you could call it that.” Scott's hand rested on the little cousin’s shoulder as a finger pointed at her nose. “Now I want you to lie down on your back and close your eyes. And I don’t want you to open those brown eyes until I tell you to. Understood?”
“So you can leave me up here?”
“Why I never entertained the thought.” The boyish grin crossed over to devilish. “Until now.”
“You’re irreformable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Curiosity won out over suspicion which permitted Kinsey to take her place on the blanket. Blowing out the candle, Scott plopped down beside the young lady, took her hand and shut his own eyes. “On my count. One… two… three. Look up.”
The view never disappointed. Lying on the roof with the absence of light and landmarks for reference created a sensation of floating into the constellations. Scott always found the effect -
“Extraordinary.” His cousin’s whispered word perfectly summarized the moment.
“Indeed it is, little one.”
Kinsey’s free hand drifted up to touch a star. “How did you discover this full potential of the universe?”
“By being a fish out of water.”
His first year at Lancer hadn’t been the smoothest. Trying to connect with a family of strangers while adapting to a new home that seemed so foreign when compared to Boston left Scott feeling detached at times. Exploring the hacienda’s thirty-plus rooms one day, he’d discovered the trap door, the tower room and the solitude of the roof.
“I needed a good place to think things through and this fit the bill. Of course, waiting for nightfall to climb through a trapdoor and jump out a window wasn’t always the most convenient, so, I started writing in a journal - made it a bit easier.”
Scott let the quietness around them settle in as they viewed the celestial display above. Words weren’t important at the moment but still needed before the evening ended.
Astrology. He didn’t embrace the idea that constellations held divine information steering a person’s future. Scott took as much stock in astrology as he did Kinsey’s tarot cards. But perhaps tonight, the stars could guide a conversation.
“Do you spy the Big Dipper, Freckles?” An index finger did its best to outline the constellation above. “Ursa Major.”
“Yes! I see it.” Kinsey’s inflection was one of unwrapping a Christmas gift. “The Great Bear. I loved reading Greek Mythology and all the legends with Zeus as the Mt. Olympus tune caller.”
Scott’s belly laughs echoed across the rooftop. “Well stated. Greek gods certainly jockeyed for that fella’s approval.”
“How do you know when you have Murdoch’s approval?”
A shooting star underlined Kinsey’s question. Perhaps Scott needed to reevaluate his views on celestial guidance. “Recognizing my father’s approval takes plenty of practice through trial and error.”
“Do you think he approves of Seth?”
“I think Westcott is a good man and I believe Murdoch agrees.”
“Seth is coming next week. I find it odd Murdoch hasn’t talked to me about the visit.”
“The ranch has a tendency to consume my father’s attention.” However, Scott had a sneaky suspicion that wasn’t the case at all.
As stars made their nightly trek across the sky and Kinsey’s yawns gradually outnumbered her sentences of concern, Scott deemed it time to trade in a hard rooftop for a soft bed. Once seeing the young lady to her room, he headed downstairs to retrieve his journal from the courtyard table.
“Son.” Murdoch’s voice beckoned from the Great Room.
Stepping through the doorway, Scott found his father relaxed in a chair - an open novel on his lap. “Sir?”
“Earlier, a screaming banshee by the name of Teresa O’Brien blew in here and pointed out that you had left the trap door to the tower room open… again. She also mentioned if another bat flew through the halls of the hacienda… again, she would skin you alive. Hating those flying little bastards myself, I promised to assist her by sharpening the knife and holding you down.”
A nod requested forgiveness. “Duly noted and my apologies. Sir…” The sneaky suspicion needed confirming. “Kinsey mentioned you haven’t spoken to her regarding Seth Westcott’s visit. It appears your absent acknowledgment is fueling her vivid imagination. Perhaps you should talk to her.”
Using his thumb, Murdoch marked the page in his book and closed it. “Since the moment that little girl stepped foot on Lancer land, she’s given me gray hairs with her unauthorized trips, uninvited guests and constant reminders of my ignorance on women’s rights. She painted my chicken coop pink and mowed my clover. She’s ignored, at least once, every rule I’ve laid down with a rebuttal of I beg to differ. Now son, after hearing the facts, don’t you think it’s only fair your father enjoys a moment of his own mischief?” The patriarch returned to his reading. “I’ll ease the young lady’s worries in a day or two.”
Scott grinned. When it came to tune calling, Zeus couldn’t compete with Murdoch Lancer.
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