"That was quick," she said.
"Hell of a shower," he said.
"Sloop chose it," she said. "I hate it. There's so much water, I can hardly breathe in there."
She slid her closet shut and twisted left and right to examine her reflection in the mirrored doors.
"You look good," he said.
"Do I look Mexican enough?" she asked. "With the white clothes?"
He said nothing.
"No jeans today," she said. "I'm sick of trying to look like I was born a cowgirl in Amarillo."
"You look good," he said again.
"Seven hours," she said. "Six and a half, if Hack drives fast."
He nodded. "I'm going to find Bobby."
She stretched tall and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thanks for staying," she said. "It helped me."
He said nothing.
"Join us for breakfast," she said. "Twenty minutes."
Then she walked slowly out of the room, on her way to wake her daughter.
Reacher dressed and found a different way back into the house. The whole place was a warren. He came out through a living room he hadn't seen before and into the foyer with the mirror and the rifles. He opened the front door and stepped out on the porch. It was already hot. The sun was coming from low on his right, and it was casting harsh early shadows. The shadows made the yard look pocked and lumpy.
He walked down to the barn and went in the door. The heat and the smell were as bad as ever, and the horses were awake and restless. But they were clean. They had water. Their feed troughs had been filled. He found Bobby asleep in an unoccupied stall, on a bed of clean straw.
"Rise and shine, little brother," he called.
Bobby stirred and sat up, confused as to where he was, and why. Then he remembered, and went tense with resentment. His clothes were dirty and hay stalks clung to him all over.
"Sleep well?" Reacher asked.
"They'll be back soon," Bobby said. "Then what do you think is going to happen?"
Reacher smiled. "You mean, am I going to tell them I made you clean out the barn and sleep in the straw?"
"You couldn't tell them."
"No, I guess I couldn't," Reacher said. "So are you going to tell them?"
Bobby said nothing. Reacher smiled again.
"No, I didn't think you would," he said. "So stay in here until noontime, then I'll let you in the house to get cleaned up for the main event."
"What about breakfast?"
"You don't get any."
"But I'm hungry."
"So eat the horse food. Turns out there's bags and bags of it, after all."
He went back to the kitchen and found the maid brewing coffee and heating a skillet.
"Pancakes," she said. "And that will have to do. They'll want a big lunch, so that's where my morning is going."
"Pancakes are fine," he said.
He walked on into the silent parlor and listened for sounds from above. Ellie and Carmen should be moving around somewhere. But he couldn't hear anything. He tried to map the house in his head, but the layout was too bizarre. Clearly it had started out a substantial ranch house, and then random additions had been made whenever necessary. Overall, there was no coherence to it.
The maid came in with a stack of plates. Four of them, with four sets of silverware and four paper napkins piled on top.
"I assume you're eating in here," she said.
Reacher nodded. "But Bobby isn't. He's staying in the barn."
"Why?"
"I think a horse is sick."
The maid dumped the stack of plates and slid one out, leaving three of everything.
"So I'll have to carry it down to him, I guess," she said, irritated.
"I'll take it," Reacher said. "You're very busy."
He followed her back to the kitchen and she piled the first four pancakes off the skillet onto a plate. Added a little butter and maple syrup. Reacher wrapped a knife and a fork into a napkin and picked up the plate and walked back out into the heat. He found Bobby where he had left him. He was sitting up, doing nothing.
"What's this?" he said.
"Breakfast," Reacher said. "I had a change of heart. Because you're going to do something for me."
"Yeah, what?"
"There's going to be some kind of a big lunch, for Sloop getting back."
Bobby nodded. "I expect so."
"You're going to invite me. As your guest. Like I'm you're big buddy."
"I am?"
"Sure you are. If you want these pancakes, and if you want to walk without sticks the rest of your life."
Bobby went quiet.
"Dinner, too," Reacher said. "You understand?"
"Her husband's coming home, for God's sake," Bobby said. "It's over, right?"
"You're jumping to conclusions, Bobby. I've got no particular interest in Carmen. I just want to get next to Sloop. I need to talk to him."
"About what?"
"Just do it, O.K.?"
Bobby shrugged.
"Whatever," he said.
Reacher handed him the plate of pancakes and headed for the house again.
Carmen and Ellie were sitting side by side at the table. Ellie's hair was wet from the shower and she was in a yellow seersucker dress.
"My daddy's coming home today," she said. "He's on his way, right now."
Reacher nodded. "I heard that."
"I thought it was going to be tomorrow. But it's today."
Carmen was looking at the wall, saying nothing. The maid brought pancakes in on a platter. She served them out, two for the kid, three for Carmen, four for Reacher. Then she took the platter away and went back to the kitchen.
"I was going to stay home from school tomorrow," Ellie said. "Can I still?"
Carmen said nothing.
"Mom? Can I still?"
Carmen turned and looked at Reacher, like he had spoken. Her face was blank. It reminded him of a guy he had known who had gone to the eye doctor. He had been having trouble reading fine print. The eye doctor spotted a tumor in the retina. Made arrangements there and then for him to have the eye removed the next day. Then the guy had sat around knowing that tomorrow he was going into the hospital with two eyes and coming back out with one. The certainty had burned him up. The anticipation. The dread. Much worse than a split-second accident with the same result.
"Mommy? Can I?" Ellie asked again.
"I guess," Carmen said. "What?"
"Mommy, you're not listening. Are you excited too?"
"Yes," Carmen said.
"So can I?"
"Yes," Carmen said again.
Ellie turned to her food and ate it like she was starving. Reacher picked at his, watching Carmen. She ate nothing.
"I'm going to see my pony now," Ellie said.
She scrambled off her chair and ran out of the room like a miniature whirlwind. Reacher heard the front door open and close and the thump of her shoes on the porch steps. He finished his breakfast while Carmen held her fork in midair, like she was uncertain what to do with it, like she had never seen one before.
"Will you talk to him?" she asked.
"Sure," he said.
"I think he needs to know it's not a secret anymore."
"I agree."
"Will you look at him? When you're talking to him?"
"I guess so," he said.
"Good. You should. Because you've got gunfighter's eyes. Maybe like Clay Allison had. You should let him see them. Let him see what's coming."
"We've been through all of that," he said.
"I know," she answered.
Then she went off alone and Reacher set about killing time. It felt like waiting for an air raid. He walked out onto the porch and looked across the yard at the road where it came in from the north. He followed it with his eyes to where the red picket fence finished, and beyond that to where it disappeared over the curve of the earth. The air was still clear with morning and there was no mirage over the blacktop. It was just a dusty ribbon framed by the limestone ledge to the west and the power lines to the east.
He turned back and sat down on the porch swing. The chains creaked under his weight. He settled sideways, facing the ranch gate, one leg up and the other on the floor. Then he did what most soldiers do when they're waiting for action. He went to sleep.
* * *
Carmen woke him maybe an hour later. She touched him on the shoulder and he opened his eyes and saw her standing over him. She had changed her clothes. Now she was in pressed blue jeans and a checked shirt. She was wearing boots made out of lizard skin. A belt to match. Her hair was tied back and she had made up her face with pale powder and blue eye shadow.
"I changed my mind," she said. "I don't want you to talk to him. Not yet."
"Why not?"
"It might set him off. If he knows somebody else knows."
"You didn't think that before."
"I thought it over again. I think it might be worse, if we start out like that. It's better coming from me. At least at first."
"You sure?"
She nodded. "Let me talk to him, the first time."
"When?"
"Tonight," she said. "I'll tell you tomorrow how it went."
He sat up, with both feet on the ground.